I, Too, Shall Follow
by notwolf
Summary: Now COMPLETE. Severus copes with life, Death Eaters, and his father in his sixth year. Lucius has his own problems with Narcissa and Voldemort. A continuation of Beginnings of a Death Eater, about 3 years later.
1. Chapter 1

I, Too, Shall Follow

(**Please note** this story takes place approximately 2 ½ --3 years after _The Beginnings of a Death__ Eater_, and is basically a sequel, since the characters and past references are derived from that story. It places more emphasis on Severus Snape, while continuing with Lucius/Narcissa. Severus is 16, in his sixth year at Hogwart's, and Lucius and Narcissa have been married since the summer of their graduation.)

_A young Severus Snape huddled in the shadows next to a potions supply store in Diagon Alley, squatting down as he watched people go by. Not ten feet away, a man Apparated with two children clutching his arms, all three of them as pale and blond as Severus was dark. The girl kissed the man's cheek and scampered off. To the boy, he pointed his cane at the bench outside the shop._

_In a smooth, deep drawl the man said, "I have business to attend to. Sit there and wait for me, then we'll go get your school supplies."_

_The boy wrinkled his brow in what Severus thought was the beginning of a tantrum. Instead, he merely said, "You let Aphrodite go off alone. How come I can't?"_

_"She's fifteen, you're twelve." The cane pointed commandingly once more. Severus noticed the head of a serpent on its end._

_Still the boy resisted, which made Severus catch his breath. He'd never dare defy his father that way!_

_"It's not fair," the boy sulked, unmoving. His unbound, chin length hair swirled in the wind._

_In a flash the cane came around to whack him hard on the upper thigh, eliciting a stifled yelp. The man leaned over, face impassive, his hand gripping his son's shoulder in what looked to be a painful manner._

_"If I have to take you home, I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget," he murmured._

_The boy gave a tiny nod, the man let him go. The lad stomped over, threw himself onto the bench, and crossed his arms. His father shot him one last warning look, then walked off. Severus hesitated for several moments as he peeked intently at the blond boy, then he slinked out of the shadows. He reached into his pocket for a thimble-sized tin he always carried with him and thrust it at the boy, who gave a startled jerk at being intruded upon._

_"Here," said Severus. "My mum made it. It's really good for taking away bruises."_

_The boy cast a disdainful glower on the smaller lad. "I don't want to buy anything."_

_"I'm giving it to you. For __that__." Severus pointed at the mottled bruise along the boy's jawline. It looked to have been there two or three days._

_Slightly confused and disconcerted, the blond boy lifted a hand to the indicated area, which did feel sensitive to the touch. He whirled to view his reflection in the store window, and his gray eyes grew wide with horror. He spun back around, evidently mortified. "I don't need it," he snapped, staring straight ahead._

_"I use it when my dad hits me," Severus offered._

_This statement had the desired effect. The boy lowered his defensive shield to peer at Severus. "Who are you?"_

_"Severus Snape."_

_"I don't recognize the name. Where do you live?"_

_"At Spinner's End."_

_The boy shrugged. "Where's that?"_

_"I don't know. Here." He pressed the tin into the other boy's hand. This time he took it and slipped it into his pocket._

_"Thanks. I'm Lucius Malfoy." For a second it looked like he meant to get up, thought better of it, and extended a hand._

_Severus shook it, feeling an odd warmth in his chest. He'd always been shy, standoffish, and here he was meeting a boy from the richest family he'd ever heard of! He had a sudden urge to run his fingers over the fine, evidently expensive cloak Lucius wore, but wisely restrained himself._

_"You don't go to Hogwart's, do you? No, you're too young," Lucius answered himself. "I'll be starting my second year in a few days. How old are you?"_

_"I'm eight," said Severus with dread in his voice. Now Lucius wouldn't want to talk to him, he'd think him a baby!_

_"Hmm," was all he said. He seemed unfazed._

_"My mum teaches me magic at home. I even have my own wand," Severus revealed proudly. "And she teaches me potion making."_

_"I hate Potions class," Lucius remarked. "I'd rather be flying. Father said I could try out for the Quidditch team if my marks are high enough." His mouth twisted ruefully, though his eyes twinkled. "I'm going to try out anyway. Once I'm on the team, he won't mind how I got there."_

_A petite woman with dark hair and a very pregnant midsection exited the shop. Catching sight of her son, she called, "Come along, Severus."_

_"Mum, this—"_

_She didn't even glance his way, she'd already started waddling off in the opposite direction. "I'm in a hurry, son. I'd like to get off my feet."_

_"Bye," Severus mumbled as he ran to catch up with his mother. He looked back to see Lucius opening the tin, smelling the cream, then delicately spreading it on his jaw._

Severus woke with a start, almost toppling off his stool as he sat perched at the Potions table. Had that been a dream? No, he remembered it well, his first meeting with Lucius Malfoy had happened exactly that way. They'd become friends that day; Lucius had owled him the next morning to thank him formally for the cream, which had completely erased his bruise, and to invite him to visit Malfoy Manor before school started. It was so many years in the past, why would he be dreaming about it now? Odd.

He closed his eyes again, shutting out the drooling ninnies in his class attempting to formulate the stipulated potion of the day. He'd not heard from Lucius for some time, which wasn't unusual, but maybe he should send an owl to make sure everything was alright. No, that was silly. If Lucius needed him, he'd be in contact.

He let his mind drift back to the manor, the first time he'd seen it from one of the fireplaces where he'd come in via floo powder. He'd been astounded that such luxury even existed, yet as often as Lucius taunted others with his wealth, he'd never once in all these years lorded it over him. He'd treated Severus as an equal, which was saying a lot, considering how the Malfoys valued pureblood superiority so highly.

"Mr. Snape." The name was repeated more forcefully a few more times before he lifted his head.

He blinked several times, remembering where he was, and pushed his shaggy black hair off his face. "Yes, Professor?"

The other students tittered and snickered at his apparent bewilderment.

Slughorn pursed his lips in a tiny frown. It wasn't like Severus to drift off during Potions class. "See me after class, please. Miss Evans, can you answer my question?"

"Stir in three drops of distilled wolfsbane in a counterclockwise motion," she rattled off. "Exactly eight stirs."

"What happens if you continue to overstir the concoction, Mr. Nott?" asked the teacher to the boy assiduously following Lily's advice.

Nott raised his head, surprised. Slughorn never called on him! "Um, I…don't know, sir." Nervously he gave the potion a few extra twirls; it began to froth and foam until it spilled like lava over the sides of his cauldron onto the table and over the edge to drip on the floor. "That?"

"Yes, that," sighed Slughorn. He waved his wand to scourgify the mess. Ordinarily he'd make the student clean it up, but with Nott it was best not to take chances. He might end up exploding the place. "Place your potions in labeled vials, you know the drill. Mr. Nott, that's a zero for you. Again."

"Yes, sir," the boy said. For being at marginally above Troll level, he seemed remarkably unconcerned.

Severus, who'd finished, bottled, and labeled his potion half an hour ago, placed it on the desk alongside the rest, which he viewed with distaste. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the oafs had bottled their own urine in lieu of doing the assignment. Then again, he hadn't been watching them… eeewww, he grimaced. Most of the potions didn't even approach the copper sheen it should have, although a few were varying shades of brown or yellow. Only Lily's came close, and if he hadn't been so hopelessly enamored of her he would definitely have found fault with hers as well.

"Severus, come here," said the professor. The lab was empty now save the two of them. "Is everything alright?"

Severus' lip curled as he considered the question. The girl he loved had begun dating the boy he hated more than anyone on Earth, the Marauders made his life a living hell at every opportunity, his only friends were either Death Eaters or Death Eater-wannabes, and Christmas holiday was around the corner, which meant going home to Spinner's End. In a nutshell, things sucked ass!

"Fine, sir," he mumbled.

"I'd like to ask you a favor."

Snape perked up a bit.

"I'm behind on restocking my supply closet. Don't think I'm flattering you to say you're the finest potions master I've ever known, especially for one so young. Do you have time to help me brew some potions this week?"

"Yes, sir, I'd like that," answered Severus, truly honored to be singled out for this chore, and highly complimented besides. Lord knows, none of those other dolts in class would last through a basic stain removing cream! "When would you like me to begin?"

"Whenever you're available. And Severus," he went on, lowering his voice, "I'm sorry about Miss Evans."

"W—what do you mean?" Snape sputtered.

Slughorn began sorting through his students' vials, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. "I'm a man, Severus. I notice things, people—loves, hates, rivalries, they all play out in my class. You and Lily used to be close, now you speak only if necessary."

"That's _her_ fault."

"Nonetheless, the tension between you is plain to see. I feel bad for it." Quill in hand, he rapidly marked things down on a parchment, then handed it to the boy. "Here's a list of potions I need. I'll let you get on to lunch."

Snape wandered out into the empty hall, perusing the list, hoping for something challenging. The concoctions they made in Advanced Potions were ridiculously simple, hardly worth his time, and if he had anything better to do, he would. At the bottom of the list, to his astonishment, he spied _Anti-inhibition Potion_. The very one he'd brewed for Lucius three and a half years ago, the one responsible for three students being expelled, Lucius nearly being number four. He had no idea they kept elixirs like this on hand! At least it would be a diversion, if not a real challenge.

A hard shove from the side sent him spinning off balance. He struck the wall with a thump and crumbled to the floor, his books and the parchment scattered about him. Sirius Black stood over him, arms crossed, laughing. Surprisingly, none of his cohorts were lurking about.

"So sorry, Snivellus. I guess I didn't see you."

Snape surreptitiously slipped his wand from his pocket. Before Sirius had a chance to catch sight of it, he aimed a silent _stupefy_ at him, propelling him off his feet to land with a thud on his back. He lay there winded, gasping for air.

Severus stood up and brushed off his robe. "I most definitely saw you," he replied, sneering happily. Today wasn't shaping up so badly after all.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas paced impatiently in the foyer for Lucius, rapping his cane on the floor each step of the way. His son hadn't come down to breakfast, neither he nor Narcissa, and he'd hoped to speak to the young man before leaving for work—without Narcissa around. He loved the girl, she was proper and sweet and everything she ought to be… except with child. His own wife had conceived their first son only four months into the marriage, their daughter three years later, and Lucius three years after that. Surely he'd waited long enough to have this talk!

"Lucius!" he bellowed. "We'll both be late for work!" He realized the futility of shouting through a house the size of Malfoy Manor, but in any event it gave him an outlet for his agitation.

Lucius came sauntering in wearing a satisfied smirk. He was, as always, immaculately groomed, long blond hair pulled back in a black ribbon, robes adjusted just so. "You screamed, Father?"

Abraxas scowled. "Don't mock me, son."

"I wouldn't dream of it," drawled the youth, entirely serious. The very sound of his father's cane tapping the floor brought back a slew of very painful memories. "Did you want to see me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I've been putting off discussing this, but now is as good a time as any. I'm not getting any younger."

His son peered at him, not quite sure what he was getting at and wondering what this was a prelude to. "That's kind of how aging works. You get _older_. You're only forty-six… or forty-seven, I get confused," he confessed.

"Let me start again. You've been married almost two and a half years, and I still have no grandchild. I thought you were so anxious to perform your, ah, marital duties."

Lucius smiled slyly. "Why do you think I'm late coming down?"

Abraxas averted his face, actually blushing. "That's not something I needed to know."

Sensing his father's discomfort, he pushed on, "We have sex constantly, Father. Nearly every day, sometimes twice—"

"Lucius! A gentleman does not speak about his personal relations this way," he said, tight-lipped, embarrassed at his own embarrassment.

"But you asked, sort of," Lucius contended. "I don't know why she isn't pregnant."

"Are you sure she isn't using a potion to prevent it?"

"No! I mean, I don't think so." He thought back to conversations they'd had about children, all of them positive and hopeful. "She wants a baby as much as I do."

"Lucius, you're still here?" Narcissa came in to where she'd heard the voices, brows drawn in a frown. She wore only a deep blue dressing gown, cinched at the waist, reminding the men of Lucius' recent boast. Her husband's eyes lit up and a warmth rushed over him; Abraxas, on the other hand, suppressed the urge to order the woman to dress decently in common areas of the house. She wasn't a peasant, after all.

"Yes, my love," cooed Lucius, taking her hand to kiss it. Had his father not been standing directly beside him, he might have snatched the robe off her and gone for it right there in the foyer. "Father was asking me if you—"

"Son, this isn't the time," interrupted Abraxas.

"If I what?"

Lucius looked questioningly at his father, whose glance bounced back and forth between the couple, then he let out a disgruntled sigh. May as well spill it.

"Narcissa, I asked my son if you've been using a contraceptive."

All sound stopped, save the ticking of the wall clock, which reverberated through the deathly silent room.

Finally Narcissa addressed Lucius. "What did you tell him?"

"I said you weren't, of course," said Lucius, very much wanting to ask if he was right, yet absolutely certain he'd better not.

An icy breeze seemed to waft through the room as Narcissa's blue eyes glowered coldly at the two of them. How dare they stand around discussing the intimate details of her marriage! Abraxas—well, he was far kinder than she'd believed before moving into Malfoy Manor, but this subject matter wasn't something one spoke of in polite conversation! And Lucius should know better than to chat blithely about their love life!

"Might I ask both of you why or how this topic surfaced?" she said with a sweetness capable of producing tooth decay while her eyes blazed daggers.

Lucius literally flinched. He knew that tone, and he didn't like it one bit. His first instinct was to point accusingly, which might be interpreted as a bit juvenile. He was, after all, twenty and a half years old; he was more mature than that.

"Father brought it up," he tattled.

Abraxas shot him a look that very succinctly said 'thanks for covering your own ass while hanging me out to dry'. Lucius cocked his head, shrugging and offering a sheepish smile. "Narcissa, please don't think I'm being nosy or overstepping my bounds. I have no desire to hear about your… lovemaking. I'm only concerned because you haven't yet—typically couples conceive within a year, and…"

"And I'm abnormal," she finished for him.

"No, I'm not saying that."

"But it's true!" she exclaimed, stamping a bare foot on the stone floor. "Do you think I haven't wondered why? It's just like Bella! She's been married for years longer than us and she never got pregnant, either." Her lips started to tremble, bringing Lucius rushing to hold her.

"Honey, it's okay. I'm sure it'll happen," he said softly, crushing her to him.

"What if it doesn't? What if there _is_ something wrong with me?"

"There's not, you're perfect."

Abraxas cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "It wouldn't hurt to see a medi-witch, would it? To make sure."

"Father, please," Lucius pleaded. His wife was already upset, he didn't need a complete emotional meltdown. He had to get to work at the Ministry, and he was already late, which would reflect badly since he'd been promoted from entry level to second tier only a month ago, an honor only familial connections could have bought. Even so, it wasn't that he didn't have time to deal with the issue; the fact was, the expression of hurt on his wife's lovely face made his own heart contract painfully.

Abraxas held up his hands in surrender. "I don't wish to be meddlesome. I'll be going."

"Brax, wait," said Narcissa.

The man halted in mid-stride, his back rigid. On her wedding day he'd invited his daughter-in-law to call him Father or Abraxas; she'd opted for Abraxas. Until this moment, the last person to ever call him Brax had been his beloved wife, whose death eighteen years ago had shattered him.

"Yes, Narcissa?"

"You're a healer as good as any medi-witch. Why don't you evaluate me?"

"That's an excellent idea, Father," Lucius chimed in.

Unaccustomed to being blindsided—at least since Lucius had completed his headache-inducing, trouble-ridden schooling and come back to live at the manor where he could be watched—Abraxas looked like a deer caught in Muggle headlights. He wasn't entirely sure whether Lucius was agreeing with Narcissa to spite him or because he honestly felt it was a good idea. He resisted the urge to smack him on general principles.

"Son, I wouldn't feel comfortable treating your wife in that manner."

"But I trust you," Narcissa insisted.

"She's practically your daughter," added Lucius.

"Exactly my point!" Abraxas exclaimed, growing red in the face again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been repeatedly embarrassed, but he knew he didn't like or appreciate it. "The examination involves touching a woman in intimate ways only her husband should touch her. I wouldn't have agreed to handle Aphrodite that way, either."

"Father, you're being childish," admonished Lucius with a sage shake of his head.

There was a pause, as if determining whether he'd heard right, then the older man's head swiveled toward his son, his astonishment evident. "Excuse me?"

Lucius took a big step backward, dragging along Narcissa, who was still clinging to his breast. Now seemed like a good time to re-think his hasty statement. It may be true, but that wouldn't prevent a pop upside the head. "I mean, we're all adults here. Neither of us would think you perverted."

"Perverted," Abraxas repeated. "Funny how the word jumps to your mind, though."

_For God's sake!_ Lucius grumbled inside. "Father, unless I believed in your skill, I wouldn't let you within a mile of my wife!" The phrase 'Grow up!', thankfully didn't leave his lips. He rather liked his lips the way they were, especially as compared to puffy and bleeding.

"Fine!" his father barked back. "I'll do it this evening, but if you so much as hint, even in jest, that I'm depraved, I'll knock you through the wall!" He stalked past them out the door and Disapparated.

Narcissa stared after him, then gazed up at Lucius. "That could've gone better. You don't think he meant it, do you? About knocking you through the wall?"

With an impish twinkle in his gray eyes, he pulled her in and kissed her deeply. "Yes, my love, he most assuredly meant it." He kissed her again, harder, and pressed his body against hers. If only he had time for one more shag! "I have to go. I'll see you this evening." He stepped outside and Disapparated as well.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

To alleviate any suggestion of impropriety, Abraxas had ordered his son present while examining Narcissa, a chore he wholeheartedly abhorred. Nevertheless, he refused to shirk his duty, and had duly performed the necessary incantations and charms while lightly skimming and tapping his wand on her abdomen and laying hands on her in a—to his mind—wholly inappropriate manner. The entire process took no more than a quarter hour. When he finished, he grunted a directive for her to get dressed.

He scourgified his hands, put his wand back in his pocket, and slipped his robe over his clothing. The grim set of his face didn't bode well. "I wish I had good news," he said quietly.

Narcissa, still only half dressed, burst into tears. Lucius, not quite comprehending yet, dropped to his knees beside her to comfort her. When the realization that he'd never have children finally hit home, he clenched his jaw to fight back a torrent of his own. No family, no son… no heir. The enormous weight of the situation threatened to crush him. His brother had died at the age of seventeen, his sister three years ago. He was to be the last of the Malfoy line.


	2. Chapter 2

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter 2

Classes were finally over for the semester, for which Severus was glad; by virtue of that fact, he'd be going home to Spinner's End for three mind-numbing weeks of listening to his parents argue, for which he wasn't in any way thankful. He didn't bother to pack, there was no point. At home he wore Muggle clothing, so he wouldn't be needing extra robes, he'd be leaving behind most of his books, and he had few other possessions to speak of. Without so much as a 'goodbye' to his roommates, who were chatting about the fun they'd have, he picked up the books he intended to take along and made for the door.

"Severus, aren't you going a little early?" Nott asked.

Severus halted, surprised he'd even noticed. "I'm not taking the train. Just gives those damnnable Marauder assholes more opportunity to ply their tricks."

"Then how—"

"Some of us have learned to Apparate, Nott. Maybe you ought to try it," chimed in another boy, making the three of them chuckle.

"Merry Christmas, Sev," said Nott, waving.

"Thanks. You, too," answered Severus, vaguely confused. Why were they being nice to him? Usually they ignored him unless talking about their Death Eater rubbish, which he listened to only to have someone to talk to.

He walked across the grounds until he'd reached the point where he could Disapparate, and reappeared in Hogsmeade. If he didn't live in a Muggle neighborhood, he'd Apparate home, but mum had put a spell on the house to keep people from Apparating directly inside. Instead he resorted to the floo network, which served to bring him into his tiny home. He brushed the soot from his eyes to see his father, a larger, sturdier version of himself, standing in front of him.

"Severus, my boy!" said Tobias, dragging him out of the fireplace. "Welcome home."

"Thanks, dad." He automatically drew his wand from his pocket and placed it in his father's upturned palm, as he'd been mandated to do on every holiday since his fourth year. "Where's mum?"

"She took the twins on an errand," he answered, grinning. "I sent her away to get rid of her for a few hours. I want you to do something for me."

Severus frowned slightly. That could only mean the man had planned something his mother wouldn't approve of, and that _something_ wasn't likely to be good.

"First take off those ridiculous robes."

Sighing softly, Severus put his books down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. In a single motion he shrugged his outer robe onto the floor, followed swiftly by anything remotely connected to wizardry, leaving him shivering in his underwear.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

An animated Dobby met Lucius at the front door when he got home from work, an unwelcome sight indeed. On the best of days Dobby was unwanted, but to see him dancing around like an oversized yard bug was plain disconcerting.

"Master Lucius, Miss Bellatrix asks you not be visiting her," he piped up.

Cocking an eyebrow, Lucius repeated, "She doesn't want me to visit her?"

"No, Master Lucius," murmured the elf, huge ears twitching.

"You just said she _doesn't_ want me to, now you're saying that's not what you said!" exclaimed the young man. "Which is it?"

"Miss Bellatrix says—"

"Oh, who gives a rat's ass!" Lucius fumed. "Why would I want to see her anyway?" He flung his outer cloak toward the wall hook; it landed on the floor. "Hang that up!"

"Because she upsets your wife, sir," squeaked Dobby, scuttling behind the umbrella rack. One bony hand snatched the cloak and hung it up.

Without waiting for an explanation, which he'd undoubtedly find useless anyway, he Disapparated up to his bedroom where, sure enough, Narcissa lay on the bed crying as she'd done for a week, ever since learning of her infertility. He walked over to sit beside her.

"Narcissa."

She seemed not to hear him. He kicked off his shoes and lay down behind her, spooning her, wrapping one arm around her.

"Love, it's alright. What's wrong?"

"Bella—Bellatrix," she sobbed.

That just figured, didn't it? The blasted elf had got something right.

"What did she do?" he asked, already planning ways to torture the conniving witch before killing her.

"She said—she's glad—not—to have—a baby," Narcissa choked out between sobs. "And I—should be—too." Her body shuddered under him.

"Bella's a stupid bitch," Lucius said softly, by way of support.

Evidently Narcissa's idea of support didn't quite coincide with his. She flopped over to face him, her features streaked with tears but now carrying an expression of outrage. "Don't you talk about my family like that!"

Taken aback, he sputtered, "But she's making you feel bad. And she is a… an unpleasant person."

"She's still my sister!"

"Of course, dear," he murmured, stroking her hair. "I apologize. But what does it matter what she thinks?"

"It's not that, Lucius. She went on about how lucky I'll be not to lose sleep over a crying baby, or have to tell the elves to change filthy diapers, or have a child making messes all over the house and us."

When put this way, Lucius tended to agree with his sister-in-law. A baby would be an enormous amount of work and time involvement. If it weren't for the lack of an heir, he might possibly learn to like the idea of childlessness… until he remembered Niki, Aphrodite's daughter who'd been murdered along with her mother. She'd been a precious, beautiful baby, sweet-tempered and playful. How he'd loved that child, and she wasn't even his! How much more would he love one of his own?

"And I want to have those things!" Narcissa was saying. "Lucius, are you even listening?"

"Yes, love," he said, bringing her back into focus. "I was just thinking about Niki." He pressed in close to his wife, lowering his head to her chest to prevent her seeing the unbidden tears about to drip from his eyes, the primary reason he avoided thinking of his niece.

"Honey, have you considered adoption?" asked Narcissa tentatively. "There are loads of babies who need homes."

"No. It wouldn't be my blood, it wouldn't be a true heir."

Narcissa began to weep again, softly this time. "It's my fault you'll never have an heir."

"It's not your fault," he responded, holding her so tightly surely it must hurt. In the back of his mind, though, it was her fault. Not directly, of course, she had no control over it, yet when all was said and done, _she_ was infertile, _he_ was not.

His eyes drifted to the mantle above his fireplace, to a snapshot of baby Niki lying on his chest, sucking on a lock of his hair. If only he had his own child to pull his hair and spit up on him, to make garbled attempts at conversation and crawl into mischief, to hug him and love him unconditionally…

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"What the hell is the matter with you, shuckin' your clothes like you got no shame?" barked Tobias to his shivering son. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, go get dressed! You think I wanna look at your skinny ass?"

Severus collected his robes in a jumble, hurried to the room he shared with the twins, and dropped them in a heap which he kicked under his bed. His father hated any reminder of the wizarding world, and experience had taught him to tread lightly around the man. When he was ordered to disrobe, he merely thought it prudent to do so immediately. He jerked on a pair of jeans and a ragged sweater, then went back to the living room where his father was waiting.

Tobias put a chummy arm around Severus' shoulders, squeezing as he said, "Now, while your mum's out, I need you to make up that potion for me. The one that makes me feel like I'm flyin'."

"I can't, mum said not to," Severus answered in a timid voice.

"Mum's not here. How long does it take?"

"Dad," he pleaded.

In an authoritative tone bordering on irritation, the man insisted, "Severus, I'm your father and you'll do as I say."

Severus slipped out from under the man's arm, trying to weasel as far away as possible. The living room being fairly small and packed with furniture, he didn't make it farther than the sofa before Tobias caught his thin arm in a tight grip.

"Son, I'm asking you nicely. Don't make me force you."

_As if you could_, Severus thought subversively. How could Tobias know what should go into the cauldron—or anything else about it, for that matter? Severus could produce any number of potions with similar appearance, smell, and taste, each with widely diverging effects. Of course, the wrong potion would inevitably lead to a vicious beating, which he was in the process of trying to avoid. Wouldn't it be easier to simply cave in and make the damn thing?

He decided to try once more. "Mum'll get cross if I do. She said it makes you do dangerous things."

"Like what?"

"Like you walked in front of a car and it barely missed you. It hit our fence." He gestured vaguely toward the front of the house, where half the fence lay broken on the front lawn.

Tobias sniffed. "She claims I've done worse when I'm drinkin', yet I don't see her tryin' to stop that."

Without approval of his brain, Severus' mouth said, "There are too many pubs in this place to stop it, or she would."

A backhand across the cheek knocked him onto the sofa. "You're gettin' pretty sassy bein' away at school all the time. Maybe I ought to tell that Headmaster you won't be returning next term."

Severus' heart leapt in his chest. His father rarely made idle threats. "Dad, please. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Then get in there and make me that potion."

"Don't make me do this. I don't want to disobey you or mum."

Tobias leaned over him with a surly sneer. "Think of it this way, son: who would you rather have vexed at you, me or your mother?"

"Severus! When did you get here?"

Tobias grunted a curse and backed off as Eileen bustled over to hug her son, pulling back in alarm at the red handprint on his cheek. The eight-year-old boy and girl with her pressed themselves against the wall, sensing trouble.

"Tobias, did you hit him?"

"He's got a smart mouth, Eileen, he's gotta learn."

The woman looked him over quickly to determine if the slap was all he'd received. "It's a good thing I came back. _Someone_ told me you weren't due home for a couple of hours." She turned a glare on her husband, who ignored it.

"I'm fine, mum, it's nothing," Severus muttered. Why did she have to make a big deal out of it? It only served to enrage his father more, she should know that by now! To the twins, both of whom had mops of thick, black hair, he held out an arm. "Don't I get a hello?"

Julius and Justina ran into his arms, to be tightly embraced and—to the boy's dismay—kissed on the cheek. Severus laughed as the boy crinkled his face and made a show of wiping off the kiss with his sleeve. Looking back and forth affectionately between the twins, he had to admit he was glad they'd taken after their mum, unlike Severus, who strongly resembled their father. He wouldn't wish this hooked nose and drawn features on them.

"Would you like help making supper, mum?" Severus asked, hopping off the couch and heading into the kitchen.

To Tobias, it was an obvious ploy to get out of making the potion, though with Eileen home that idea was sunk, anyway. It irritated him. No, it out-and-out pissed him off. If she'd stayed away like she was supposed to, he could have convinced Severus to make the potion, which would've made a grand Christmas present. Instead, he had to settle for whiskey, which gave him tremendous hangovers, or beer, which gave him gas. As for the witch brew making him daft, sure it did, but no more than liquor, and without the unpleasant side effects of alcohol. _She_ just didn't want him having an escape from his dead end job and pathetic loser life.

He dropped onto the sofa. "Tina, bring me a beer."

The little girl ran into the kitchen. Her twin sat down beside Tobias, looking grave. "Dad, are you mad at Severus?"

"Not really," admitted his father. "I'm more mad at your mum."

"How come?"

"You're too young to understand. With any luck, you'll have a better life than me, and you won't have to understand." He took the beer from Justina and swallowed half of it in one gulp.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The meal progressed in relative silence except for mundane conversation initiated by Eileen in an effort to get Severus to open up about how school was going. He answered in one-word replies, keeping his eyes on his plate lest he catch a glimpse of his father's accusing scowl. He hated this, the constant tension between his parents, particularly since most of it seemed to originate with _him_.

Out of the blue Tobias said, "When are you gonna cut that hair?"

Severus looked up. Sure enough, the remark had been thrown his way. He shrugged, not daring to say he preferred longer hair.

"Answer me, boy!"

"I don't know, sir," he said very softly.

"Leave him be, Tobias. He can wear his hair however he wants. Lots of wizards have long hair."

Wrong thing to say. Tobias banged his fist on the table, making the dishes jump, and the three children jump a bit, as well.

"I'm tired of hearing about how wonderful wizards are, how they can do no wrong! Not like your husband, Eileen. I can do no right!"

"I never said that."

Tobias ignored her. "My own son thinks he doesn't have to obey me because he can do magic! I'm sick of it, I'm sick of all of it!"

Severus slid down in his chair, trying to blend into the wall. He'd heard variations of the same argument time and again, never with a happy ending. When his father'd had a few drinks, like now, there was no reasoning with him, yet for some godforsaken motive his mother insisted on baiting him and indulging his preposterous delusions.

Eileen scoffed, "Since when doesn't he obey you?"

"Since I told him to make me a potion and he wouldn't do it!"

Shocked into silence, Eileen gaped first at her husband, then at Severus, and finally comprehension lit. "So that's what this is all about. That potion is dangerous. I told him not to make it because it causes you to act crazy."

"So now I'm insane! No wonder the boy treats me like he does!" growled Tobias.

Severus got up quietly, hunching close to the wall, hoping to slink from the room unnoticed. In a flash Tobias was on his feet. He whacked Severus across the face hard enough to spin him halfway around and drop him back into his chair.

"You're gonna sit there and eat, damn it! I don't pay for that food to watch it go to waste!"

Eileen sprang from her seat to grab her husband's arm in the event he intended another blow. Teeth clenched, she demanded, "Why must you pick on him? If you're angry with me, direct your anger at me."

"I don't hit women," he seethed in return.

"I'd rather you hit me than him!" she shouted. "He didn't do anything!"

Tobias made a sweeping motion with his arm as he bellowed, "Get the hell out, then!"

Not needing to be told twice, Severus bounded up and ran to his room where he crouched on the bed, knees drawn up to his chest. Even in there he heard them arguing. He was so weary of fighting all the time, of not having a safe haven anywhere, even at home. In silent desperation he wished he belonged somewhere, that he'd find a place where he'd be accepted instead of being tormented or punished for being who he was.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As usual, when Lucius knocked on the Lestranges' door, the house elf kept him waiting outside like a deliveryman while it went to fetch the master of the house. Rodolphus came sauntering up wearing an amused sneer.

"You had to come, didn't you?" he snickered. "You're so predictable."

"You heard about Bella upsetting my wife, I take it," replied Lucius, pushing past him into the house. "Where is she?"

Rodolphus' features made an abrupt change. Solemnly he advised, "I would've thought you'd know this by now, but obviously you don't. One thing you don't want to do is get between the Black sisters. Trust me."

"I'm not afraid of Bella," Lucius retorted.

"Well, I am!" Rodolphus exclaimed in earnest. Glancing behind him to make sure she wasn't lurking around, he confided, "She's not right, if you get my meaning. I'm her husband, but she'd kill me in a heartbeat if I crossed her. _You_ she doesn't even especially like, so I'd watch my step with her."

"Are you saying she'd kill me for defending Narcissa?" asked Lucius dubiously.

"I'm saying I don't want to find out. She's severely pissed at Cissy right now."

"For what? Bella's the one who said mean things."

Rodolphus furtively glanced around again. "Your wife blasted her with some spell, then attacked her and scratched her face pretty deep."

Eyes popping like saucers in his skull, Lucius gasped, "You're kidding!"

"I wish! She's been screaming around here ever since."

Astounded almost into speechlessness, Lucius lowered himself into a chair. Narcissa? His docile, sweet wife had attacked Bellatrix? The very thought seemed outrageous, asinine. Bella was a witch _he_ wouldn't want to tackle one-on-one, and _Narcissa_ had done so?

"Are you sure?" he said finally. "Are you sure it was Narcissa?"

"Yes! And then she pointed her wand and ordered Bella out." Rodolphus leaned in conspiratorially. "I think she's mostly aggravated that her sister got the drop on her and that she didn't get to fight back. She's awfully tough to beat in a duel."

"Tell me about it," Lucius answered. He'd seen Bella fight some violent characters, and she'd taught him the hard way how to duel. "I had no idea Narcissa was so sneaky." In truth it gave him a secret rush; he couldn't wait to get back and snatch her in his arms.

An icy voice pierced through his daydream. "What the hell are you doing here, blondie?" When he looked up, her demeanor was no more pleasant than her tone. Rodolphus had apparently retreated down the hallway when he heard her approaching, for he was nowhere to be seen. "I told your stupid elf I didn't want you here."

Erring on the side of caution, he chose his words delicately. "I came to apologize for my wife's beastly behavior."

Bellatrix glared at him, searching for signs of insincerity. Finding none in his habitually impassive countenance, she tossed her head and threw herself on the couch. Any indication that she'd suffered a scratch had vanished, though her mood had yet to improve. "She's lucky I didn't tear her apart."

"She certainly is," Lucius agreed. "I was hoping you could forgive and forget. She is, after all, your baby sister, and she's been very upset."

"I'll think about it," Bella proclaimed magnanimously.

"Okay, then, I guess I should go." Lucius stood up, anxious to leave before she decided to hex him on general principles.

"Why don't you adopt a kid if she's going to be so freaking nuts," Bella said, oblivious to the notion that he'd yet to see anyone nuttier than _her_.

Lucius stopped in his tracks. "If I adopt a child, it won't be a Malfoy. There's no point if I won't have a proper heir."

Bella laughed in her high cackle. "So you don't go in for all that lovey-dovey kiss the baby crap, huh? Good for you. The brats are nothing but trouble."

All at once Lucius felt something tug at his heart. It wasn't crap, it was a wonderful feeling to have a baby cling to his neck, to romp with him, to love him. If by adopting a baby it would become his own blood, he'd do so in an instant. Nonetheless, his expressionless face betrayed nothing of his thoughts. "Way too much trouble," he murmured.

"Why don't you find some kid who's a Malfoy descendant and adopt him?" Bella proposed. "It's not your blood, but he'd be a Malfoy. That might shut Cissy up, and you'd have an heir."

Lucius was poised to say what a ludicrous idea it was when he stopped to really consider it. The child would have Malfoy blood, meaning it could be an heir, and Narcissa would have a child to dote on, which might help her forget her inability to conceive. Who knows, he might even grow attached to the kid. "That's a good idea, Bella. I'll ask my father if he knows of any relatives with a spare son."

Bella leaned back, propped her feet on the coffee table, and gloated silently. It was about time people recognized her genius.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Kreacher! KREA-CHER!" Sirius bellowed through the house. The portraits on the walls glowered at him, some of them hissing reproaches.

The house elf plodded ever so slowly up the stairs, muttering and cursing under his breath, taking as long as he possibly could get away with. "Mistress Black says Kreacher isn't being slave for Master Sirius," he huffed to himself. "Kreacher hates Master Sirius, filthy mudblood lover." At last he arrived at the open door to Sirius' room. "Yes, Master Sirius?"

"You could've Apparated and been here ten minutes ago," complained the boy.

Kreacher stood hunch-shouldered, crossing his stick-like arms. "Kreacher comes," he said spitefully. "Master Sirius undeserves Kreacher, lover of scum."

"Keep it up and I'll kick you," Sirius threatened.

"Leave him alone, Sirius," said Regulus, who happened to be walking by. "I'll tell mum if you hurt him."

Kreacher grinned, making his hideous face all the more grotesque. "Good Master Regulus. Is Master Regulus needing Kreacher?"

"Even you, Regulus!" Sirius yelped. "Why are you turning on me?"

"I'm not. I'm just telling you not to be cruel to Kreacher."

"He's being mean to _me_!" protested his brother.

The house elf padded over to the younger boy, gazing up at him with affection. "Kreacher isn't busy, Master Regulus. Is you needing Kreacher? Muggle lover isn't deserving Kreacher."

"Sure, go make me a snack," Regulus ordered. The elf Disapparated.

Incredulous, Sirius asked, "He makes food for you?"

"Yeah… doesn't he for you?" The pout on his brother's face answered him. "Don't worry, he always makes a ton. I'll share it with you."

It occurred to Sirius he'd completely forgotten what he called the elf for in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Three

A week since Christmas had passed in the blink of an eye, though it had been spent on a commendable cause. Conspiring with his father, Lucius had dreamed up the perfect belated gift for his wife. Wound up with anticipation of her reaction, he grinned idiotically as he held his hands over her eyes. Abraxas entered the parlor bringing the gift along.

"Ready, honey?"

"Yes, Lucius. Can I see now?" Narcissa felt herself almost leaping out of the chair with joyous expectation.

He removed his hands from her eyes, which flicked quickly around the room, searching for something that had changed. Nothing. The only difference appeared to be a small boy standing next to Abraxas. He looked to be about ten, brown hair and eyes, quite unremarkable. He seemed uncomfortable in his evidently new outfit.

"Lucius, I don't see it. And who is this boy?"

"He's your Christmas present," her husband beamed, coming around to slip down on the loveseat beside her.

"What?"

"My grandfather has a much younger brother, whose daughter has two sons. This is the second of them."

Still clueless, Narcissa shook her head. "I don't understand."

Abraxas nudged the child, who took a few paces forward and made a formal bow. Lifting up, he looked her straight in the eye with a slight air of insolence, giving the tiniest of smirks. "I'm your son, Mother."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, you'll watch the kids while I'm gone," Eileen said, more of a question than a statement. With her mother taken ill, she'd decided to make a hasty journey of two days to ascertain whether the doctor's proclamation was true. In spite of his assurance it was nothing serious, she'd packed an expansive supply of herbs for brewing potions.

"Yes, mum, they'll be fine. Send my love to grandma and grandpa."

Eileen kissed his cheeks, then did the same to the twins. "You behave and do as your brother says. And don't annoy your father—that goes for all of you." She looked pointedly at Severus, as if he deliberately riled the man.

Three black shocks of hair nodded agreement. Tobias, standing in the background, twisted his face. Why must she continually try to turn the children against him? He did his best for the family, and this was his reward—an admonition to the kids to stay out of his way! It shouldn't surprise him, he brooded. She was a _witch_ and he was a lowly _Muggle_. At times he felt like grabbing her by the hair and shaking her until her teeth rattled.

Eileen came up to her husband. "I'll see you in a couple of days. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"She's your mother," he said gruffly. How could he deny her a visit with her sick mum?

She gave him a light smile and a peck on the lips. "Love you."

"Kind of you to say," he replied just as quietly.

The look on her face bespoke puzzlement, though in her hurry to depart she brushed it aside. There'd be time for hashing over this debate when she got back. From only feet away, Severus observed his parents' interaction as he frequently did, wondering yet again if this was what marriage should be: constant bickering, insecurity, unmet longings. If so, it too closely resembled fishing in a pool of sharks for his taste.

His mother got into the fireplace, tossed her floo powder, and was gone. Tobias continued to stare at the empty spot for some time, then finally turned away.

"I'm going to work. Severus, mind the children, and I'd like supper when I get home. And clean up this house, it looks like a pigsty."

"Yes, sir," the boy answered, secretly dreading the coming two days.

Since the day of his arrival for the holidays, he'd received only a cuff or two, along with the occasional half-crocked monologue listing his perceived failings. As records went, this one stood out as exemplary, and he'd like to keep it that way. As long as everyone conducted themselves correctly, there'd be no problem. Of course, getting everyone to fall in line and behave civilly…well, _that_ was the problem. If only he could pilfer that disgusting whiskey! He heaved a sigh of relief as his father went out the door.

"Tina, Julius, pick up the mess in the living room, then vacuum and dust," he ordered.

"You're not my boss," Julius retorted.

"Mum said to obey me."

Justina had already begun straightening the room. "I'm telling on you, Julius," she threatened. "I'll tell dad."

Enough said. Grudgingly the boy pitched in, leaving Severus to clean the kitchen countertops, scrub the floor, and do the dishes. How he wished he had his wand! He couldn't even borrow the children's wands, as they were forbidden to have one until they started school.

When they finished, he set the children to cleaning both bedrooms while he tackled the bathroom. The place wasn't nearly as filthy as his father made out, he griped to himself. In a few hours, the house was sparkling. He fed the kids a late lunch, then set about preparing the meat and vegetables for soup.

Julius gazed up at him, his huge black eyes pleading. "Do we have to help?"

"It won't take long," Severus answered, trying to sound cheery.

"I'm tired, I wanna go play," Julius whined.

"Can't we go outside, Severus?" Justina chimed in.

They _had_ worked hard, he admitted, and he wasn't so sure he trusted them with knives anyway. "I guess so. Stay out of the street!" he called after their fleeing forms.

Once he'd finally got the food on to simmer, Severus wearily dragged himself in to collapse on the sofa. He watched television for a while and, becoming bored, went to fetch his favorite school book, _Dark Arts Through the Ages_. Again he wished he had his wand to practice some of the delectable spells he read about. Immersed in the pages of dark magic and evil wizards, he soon forgot about everything else, including his sister and brother.

Time flew as it always did when he studied the dark arts. The next thing he heard was an angry shout and children squealing. He jumped up, letting the book fall, as Tobias entered the nearly-dark house dragging the twins by their hair, one in each calloused hand. The man tossed them like dolls onto the floor, where they lay begging and crying. He flipped on a light.

"So this is the way you watch them?" he demanded of Severus. "What were you doin'?" Spying the book on the couch, he strode over and snatched it up, read the title, then hurled it across the room.

"W-what did they do?"

"They were playin' in the street in the dark, smartass, which you'd know if you were watchin' 'em! They could've been killed! And whose fault would that've been?"

Severus swallowed hard. _Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why couldn't anything ever go right?_

There was no time for any more reflection. Tobias gripped the front of his shirt in a wad, while the other hand whaled back and forth across his face, rocking his head with the force of the blows. Oddly enough, the lone thought that flitted through the boy's mind was how strange it seemed that he didn't smell alcohol on the man. After five or six tremendous slaps, he pushed his son away.

"Your mother trusted you," Tobias said in an ominously calm voice. "_I_ trusted you."

"I'm sorry," Severus mumbled through split lips. A bit of blood trickled down his chin; he didn't wipe it away. He deserved this. Yes, he'd told the kids to stay out of the street… but he hadn't once checked on them. If they'd been kidnapped or run down, his pitiful effort would provide no comfort. It made him sick to envision it.

Already Tobias had his belt off and was lifting a squirming Julius off the floor by his arm. "You brats know better than to play in the street," he said simply.

Severus averted his face, but the repeated cracks of the leather and his brother's cries tore at his heart. This was all his fault! He had a responsibility and he'd shirked it! He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, unable to block the sound. When his sister's turn came, her piteous wails with each whack made his own body flinch as if he were struck as well. At length it was over; the children huddled on the floor sobbing softly.

Tobias turned on his eldest son. "You let us down, Severus. You let _them_ down."

The boy opened his eyes to look at his father. The expression of condemnation in the man's sober eyes hurt worse than any drunken rant ever had. A random beating when his father had been drinking meant nothing; it wasn't personal, not really. This was different, he'd earned it, and it acted as a confirmation of his worthlessness.

Holding his father's gaze, he nodded, stepped over to the man, and turned his back as he tightened his jaw and braced for his whipping.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Like a dagger to the heart, Narcissa gasped and clutched her chest, unable to believe what she was hearing. Horrified, she spat at Lucius, "How dare you make sport of me! How dare you mock my pain! How could you be so cruel?"

With as much dignity as she could muster in her fury, she got up and ran from the room, knocking Abraxas against the piano in her rush. He righted himself and addressed his obviously confused son.

"You'd better go explain, Lucius. I told you not to surprise her like this."

"It seemed like a good idea," he said defensively, carefully brushing off his spotless robes. "Damien, stay here with my father."

Assuming—accurately—that Narcissa would lock the bedroom door, he Apparated directly into the room to find her sprawled on the floor sobbing. When he attempted to touch her, she swung a balled fist at him.

"Get away, leave me alone!"

"Narcissa, I'm sorry. I wasn't mocking you." He knelt down out of arm's reach. "Father and I, we thought it would be best for the family to adopt him so I'd have an heir."

Incredulous, Narcissa lifted her tear-stained face to glare at him. "You won't let me adopt a baby, but you'll adopt a half-grown boy? What is wrong with your mind?"

He pretended not to hear the last part. "He's of Malfoy blood, the only one available. If there'd been a baby, I would have pursued him. Nevertheless, he's here. His name is Damien, but once we sign the papers you can name him whatever you want."

"How could you do something like this without consulting me?" she shrieked. "And he's a child, not a dog! You can't rename him!"

"Whatever you want," he said solicitously. "I should have told you."

"You should have _asked_ me!" she shouted.

"I thought you'd be glad to have a child."

"Yes, it he were my own child. Were we _ten_ when we supposedly had this boy?" If he'd been a little closer she would have made another swipe at him. "You said we have to sign papers, right? What if I don't want him?"

On the verge of losing his own impeccable composure, Lucius uttered, "You claimed you wanted children. I'm trying to be thoughtful."

"You're trying to gain an heir because your pitiful wife can't give you one!" she shot back. "You don't really care what I think."

"Of course I do, Narcissa," he said through gritted teeth. "His parents sent him to us to get to know him before we officially adopt him."

"Speaking of whom, what kind of parents give away one of their children just because someone asks?" Here she sat up, crossed her arms, and cocked her eyebrows.

Unfazed, Lucius answered, "They're practically poor as Weasleys. They know that as my heir, he'll lack for nothing."

"I cannot believe you're doing this."

"This is all new to you. In time you'll see it's the right thing. You'll come to love Damien."

"Will you?" she challenged.

Lucius shrugged as if the subject wasn't worth thinking about. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" He held out a hand to her, the tone of his voice strangely aloof. "Come and meet our son."

"What if I refuse?"

The effort Lucius put into maintaining a cool façade became very evident as he struggled to hold back his emotions, none of which seemed to be pleasant at the moment. He clipped at her, "Damien is to be our son."

"What if I don't want to be his mother?" she pressed.

"I'm not sure either one of us wants to find out," he returned, then whirled on his heel and stalked out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The sound of someone tripping and stumbling across the floor woke Severus. In the blackened room, he made out only an outline, right before the man pitched forward to land on his legs, pinning him in place. Heart racing, Severus yanked at his legs; the smell of whiskey rising up made his stomach turn. It was his father, he'd come to beat him again! In his drunken state he must have brooded over the day's events and decided the punishment hadn't been adequate!

Torn between wanting to escape and fear of movement, Severus fell back, pretending to be asleep. Never in the past had Tobias dragged him out of bed to pound him, hopefully he'd be fooled and go away, putting off his wrath until tomorrow… or better yet, forgetting it completely.

"Severus," the man whispered loudly.

Eyes wide open, panting in fear, the boy said nothing.

"Severus!" he repeated, shaking the limp figure.

Unable to feign sleep, and unwilling to awaken the children by a scene, he said quietly, "Yes, sir?"

"Good, you're awake." Tobias swung around and flopped onto the bed, again onto the boy's legs.

Severus grimaced and sat up, jerking his legs free. By now it was apparent his father had progressed to the falling down drunk stage which was, ironically, a good thing. It meant he'd bypassed the middling ground where his aggression was worst.

"Dad, it's the middle of the night."

Tobias seemed not to hear him. "I 'ave to talk to you. We don' really talk much, me and you."

"We can talk in the morning."  
"I jus' want you to behave right. Can't abide no troublemakers. Don' want no jailbird son," his father slurred.

"I don't have any intention of going to prison, dad. If this is about today, I really am sorry I didn't watch the kids. I don't blame you for punishing me." _Please go to bed_, he implored silently.

Intent on his prattling chit-chat, Tobias went on, "You done a fine job cleanin' the house."

"Um, thank you. Maybe you should go to b—"

"I love you, Severus," he said in a confiding manner, leaning in close so his hot breath stung his son's nostrils. "Your mum thinks I don', but I do."

Shocked into silence by the declaration he'd not heard since he'd been a little boy, Severus stared through the dark at his father's beaked profile. He'd honestly forgotten how very wonderful it felt to hear those words, like a tight band snapped off his heart. "I love you, too, dad," he said truthfully.

"I wish your mum did," he rambled. "She don' want me no more. She don' love me." The man bowed his head and started to cry, which threw Severus into a tizzy. Drunk, obnoxious, abusive—those things he could handle, but this went beyond the pale. He'd never seen his father so vulnerable, and frankly it scared him.

One hair shy of freaking out completely himself, Severus pleaded with him, "Yes, she does. She's always loved you. She worries about you is all."

"Really?" he sniffed. "But she don' act the same."

The fact that this man had a marked tendency to mistreat her children might play into it, Severus thought, never dreaming of saying it aloud. "Ask her, you'll see."

"I wish you was normal, not one o' _them_. We c'd be happy…" He wiped at his eyes with his sleeves.

"But—"

" 'S not your fault, I know," the man continued over him. "You're a good boy, Severus. Not your fault you're a wizard."

How exactly was he supposed to respond to that?

"You think I'm mean, but I 'ave to teach you to respect me. 'S my job, right?"

Finding no point in arguing or contradicting him, Severus agreed softly, "Yes, sir."

Tobias reached out a large hand and, to his son's discomfiture, began to pat him on the head, every so often one of his pats bumping on Severus' nose and dragging down his face. "Not s'pose to say I love you, 's not manly." All at once he tipped over onto his son, unconscious.

Severus carefully wiggled out from under him and got off the bed, laying the man down and covering him as best he could, then he crept into the living room to sleep on the couch. For the first time since he'd come home, he wasn't sorry to be here.


	4. Chapter 4

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Four

_Dear Severus,_

_I realize school will be starting soon; if at all possible, I'd like you to visit before such time._

_There's someone I'd like you to meet._

_Your friend, Lucius_

Severus read the note again, his interest piqued. Who might Lucius want him to meet? Not a girl, certainly, since he was happily married. For the briefest moment he let himself think Lucius had found a girl for Severus himself, then the delusion melted away. Pureblood, high society, rich people had no interest in making acquaintance with halfblood poverty cases like him. If circumstances had been different, he doubted Lucius would have given him the time of day on their first encounter. And anyway, Lily was the only girl he cared to know, even if she insisted on hanging around with that despicable Potter and his group of moron friends.

He put on the best clothes he had, ashamed to think they'd come from the donation box at a local church. While tempted to blame his father for drinking the money away, he couldn't in good conscience do so. Tobias worked hard at a low-paying, dead end job; with his lack of proper schooling, it was the best he could get. As much as Severus hated the drinking, he understood it for what it was—an escape, the only escape available short of abandoning the family or suicide. He wholly empathized with the desire to flee from a painful existence, yet be helpless to do so. Let the rest of the world think what they would, Severus respected the choice to fulfill duty despite its lack of material reward.

It was time, Lucius would be expecting him. He peeked into the kitchen. "Mum, is dad gone to work?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm going to visit Lucius Malfoy." He watched her face for reaction, noticed the faint knitting of her brow at the mention of his name.

"Be back before your father gets home," she said, staring at the pot she was stirring.

"I will." In the living room he took a handful of floo powder, stepped into the fireplace, and said, "Malfoy Manor."

Lucius was indeed waiting for him. He arose from his chair with a smile, extending his hand. "Severus, how have you been?"

"Just fine," he lied, shaking the offered hand. "And you?"

"Likewise." A twinkle of excitement in Lucius' eyes made him seem younger than the inscrutable, stony man he showed to the world. "I'd like you to meet my son."

Severus, who prided himself on his own control over his emotions and expressions, gaped like a simpleton. "Your son! You never told me Narcissa was pregnant!"

"No, no, no," Lucius shushed him, waving a hand. "I'm—we're going to adopt an heir."

Puzzled, Severus asked, "Why? You're only twenty, you have plenty of time to have a son."

Lucius' good mood evaporated in a flash and he dropped his head, shaking it sadly. "We found out a few weeks ago that Narcissa can't bear children. She's infertile."

"Oh." What could he say to that? "I'm sorry."

"So am I. But we do what we have to do, right?"

"Don't you think it's a little soon to be adopting after just finding out? I mean, how is Narcissa taking it?" asked Snape.

"The infertility or the adoption?" said Lucius snidely. "The answer to both is 'very poorly'."

"Is she taking anything, any medicine or potion?"

Lucius nodded and sat down, gesturing for his friend to do the same. "My father is giving her _Origo concipere_. Unfortunately, although it's the best available, results are rare."

"Hmm." Severus closed his eyes, silently running through every potion he knew relating to fertility in any way. This one was purported to be the best, Abraxas was right in trying it. If it didn't work—and it likely wouldn't—Lucius would have no choice except adoption. Or… "Lucius, have you thought to use a substitute?" he proposed delicately, using the euphemism for 'concubine'.

"No," he answered curtly.

"It's permitted in the wizarding world to produce an heir."

"Malfoys do not use them," Lucius insisted, taking on an affronted air.

"Why, because they're so much better than everyone else?" Severus taunted, feeling slightly guilty for provoking him at a time like this.

Lucius didn't seem to notice. In fact, he seemed a bit confused. "You were at our wedding, Severus. Which part of the Unbreakable Vow of Fidelity didn't you understand?"

Completely deflated, Severus sheepishly hung his head. "I forgot about that. It's not exactly common, you know."

"For Malfoys it is. It's required at all Malfoy weddings, probably to insure the heir really _is_ an heir and not some bastard child," he explained with a wry grin.

"If it weren't for the vow, would you sire a successor that way?"

"No," answered Lucius without hesitation. "I don't need a vow to make me want to be true to my wife."

A new respect for him shone in Severus' eyes. Of all the men he saw in his neighborhood, he doubted more than a tiny percentage were faithful. He liked to think his father was one of the few. He found it encouraging to know Lucius differed from the majority of the stuck-up, aristocratic wizards.

"Severus, could I ask you a favor?"

"Of course."

"You're as good as Professor Slughorn at potion making, maybe even better. Could you… would it be possible to make Narcissa a more effective potion?" Lucius' gray eyes locked on him, imploring in a way he'd never permit himself to ask outright.

Flattered, but abashed, Severus uttered, "You may be asking for a miracle, which I'm not in a position to provide."

"I'm not asking you to be God, Severus, I'm just asking you to try to invent a better potion. I'll pay for whatever you need."

"I," he began, ready to say it was an impossible quest, how could he be expected to succeed? Looking at his friend, he perceived two things he couldn't bear to extinguish, not without a fight: belief in Severus, and hope. How could he dash them without even attempting this task?

"I'll try, Lucius, but concocting new potions is tricky and time-consuming, even dangerous. Finding one that works without poisoning your wife will be difficult, and there's no telling how long it might take."

Lucius nodded his understanding. "We have nothing but time."

"This boy you're adopting… what becomes of him if you _do_ have a son?" Severus queried.

"He'll still be my heir—or joint heir," he conceded with a mirthless laugh. "I couldn't very well throw him our _or_ slight my own." Then he added quietly, "Narcissa so very much wants a baby."

_As if you don't_? Severus thought. Despite the fact that he'd been practicing Legilimency for years, he'd never used it intentionally on his family or friends… well, Lucius. He didn't count anyone else as real friends. He didn't need his skill to read between the lines, to see the heartache this news of infertility had brought.

"Come on, Severus. Come and meet Damien."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Forty minutes. That impudent child had spent forty minutes squatting on the floor at her feet staring up at her while she read. It was enough to drive her mad. Pretending he wasn't there hadn't worked; gentle hints to be on his way had been ineffective.

"Damien, must you stare at me?" asked Narcissa.

"No, Mother," he answered, eyes never wavering.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I'm bored, Mother."

"Call me Miss Narcissa," she instructed, laying aside her book. She'd not grasped a single page she'd read anyway.

"Father said to call you Mother," he replied, his lips curling into a typical, obviously genetic Malfoy sneer she wanted to smack off his face, and felt guilty for wanting to do.

"My husband does not speak for me. When he gets home from work, I'll have a talk with him."

"You mean you'll fight with him like you did yesterday and the day before?" Damien asked, looking ever so innocent, not fooling Narcissa. The only way he could have known they'd been fighting was by sneaking about outside their bedroom door.

Eyes narrowing, Narcissa bent down face to face, speaking in a low, menacing tone. "I suggest you mind your own business, Damien. Little boys who creep around where they shouldn't can get into quite a lot of trouble."

The boy scooted away from her, his expression one of utter terror. "I'll be good, Mother, don't hurt me!"

"I didn't say I'd hurt you," she gushed, feeling guilty all over again. She reached out a hand, prompting him to throw his arms in front of his face for protection.

"Don't, Mother!"

"Narcissa, what is going on?" demanded Abraxas from the doorway. He still had on his work robes.

She turned toward him. "I don't know, I didn't do anything to him," she replied defensively, standing up. Damien scuttled back a bit more.

Abraxas shot her an odd look. He motioned with his cane to the boy. "Come along, Damien."

The lad hopped up and raced to the doorway to be nestled under the protective arm of the patriarch. He gazed up adoringly at the man, who said curtly to Narcissa, "As Damien's mother, it's your responsibility to see to it he has a good tutor and a flying coach. Perhaps tomorrow you might busy yourself with this chore."

Before she could respond indignantly to his veiled command, he spun around and guided the child out. Damien glanced back at her, smiling triumphantly.

"That little brat!" she seethed to herself. On more careful reflection, she noted how Damien had a perfect view of the doorway from where he sat. The whelp had seen Abraxas come in and deliberately made out that she was abusing him! "You vile wretch," she muttered.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Narcissa, we need to talk." Lucius pulled off his gloves and cloak and dropped them on one of the chairs by his fireplace.

His wife noticed with distaste the fact that he hadn't taken them off downstairs as he was accustomed. Apparently Abraxas had waylaid him on the way in to express his dissatisfaction with Narcissa's presumed behavior.

"Have you got another order for me, master?" she questioned sarcastically. "Or maybe you've brought another snot nose home to torment me."

"That's enough!" he barked, startling her with his ferocity. He tossed his loose blond hair back off his face, more clearly showing the ire simmering behind his controlled countenance. "I will not allow you to mistreat my son, Narcissa! Nor will I permit the way you speak of him!"

"He's_ not_ your son, Lucius," she clipped back. "And I did nothing to him."

"My father saw him cringing from you. Care to explain?"

"Your father has no right to judge anyone where abuse is concerned! You, of all people, know what he's capable of," she retorted.

Lucius took a step closer and, for the first time since she'd known him, he frightened her.

"We're not discussing Father. What happened with Damien?" Lucius pressed.

"Nothing! He feigned fear so Abraxas would see it."

Lucius rolled his eyes and let out a disgusted breath. "Why would he do that? He's ten years old, he has no concept of deception."

"Oh, really? That brat has it in for me, Lucius. I don't know why, but he does."

"Do you know how ridiculously lame that sounds?" he answered, shaking his head. "I thought, perhaps too optimistically, that you were mature enough to mother a child. It looks like I'll be needing to hire a nanny."

"Don't you speak down to me! I'm not a house elf, and I'm certainly not a wicked woman!" she shrieked at him.

"Calm yourself, Narcissa," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I think you need to rest, you've evidently been under a strain. Maybe tomorrow you'll feel better."

"Lucius, why can't you believe me? I—" She stopped mid-sentence as a sudden look of pain flickered in his eyes and he looked down at his left forearm, covered by his sleeve. She knew what it meant before he said it.

"I have to go." All animosity seemed forgotten.

"Do you know how late you'll be?" She dared not ask what this meeting might entail; she honestly didn't think she wanted to know.

Lucius shook his head. "I have no idea why I'm even being summoned." With a flick of his wand his robes changed to the Death Eater hooded robes. "I love you." Another flick of the wand placed the grotesque mask over his face. He Disapparated to the front door, walked outside, and Disapparated once more.

Up in their room, Narcissa sat down on the bed. How she despised those robes, that hideous mask that symbolized his enslavement to Lord Voldemort. Only in the past year had Voldemort come up with the idea to cloak his followers thus in order to not only hide their identities, but also to elicit more fear from the community. It sickened her to know Lucius liked the concealment, enjoyed the feeling of power their reign of terror inspired. At least before, when he left and when he returned, he was Lucius; now he was a horrifying _thing_.

Death Eaters were responsible for Muggle, mudblood, and even pureblood torture and death. Everyone knew it. They were so brazen as to send their mark into the sky to announce to the world they'd murdered again. When Narcissa had asked Lucius if he'd ever killed, he'd looked her in the eye and denied it. She wanted to believe him, with all her heart she wanted that, yet he'd been changing over these three years, becoming colder, crueler. He couldn't see it, but she could. Was it possible he could now lie to her without her realizing it? She desperately hoped not.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius Apparated in a meadow near a rundown farmhouse. He looked around, wondering where in the blazes he was. All he knew was that he'd followed the master's call, it always led to wherever Voldemort was. Momentarily numerous other hooded and masked figures began appearing all around. Clearly he was in the right place.

Voldemort appeared in front of them, a frightening sight to behold even without a disguise. What had, only a few years ago, been a relatively attractive man had become mutated; his ghastly white face resembled a taut balloon with vaguely human features, as if stretched over a skull, and the whites of his eyes were now permanently red as blood.

Without a word the Death Eaters lined up, approaching on their knees one at a time to kiss the hem of his robe. He stood like a king, his proud eyes observing each one, disdainfully reveling in their groveling. A pang shot through him on detecting that this routine didn't humiliate them as it once had, it had become… well, routine. He'd have to think up another way to amuse himself at their expense.

When the last Death Eater had taken his place in the circle, Voldemort extended his hands to them as if he were chatting benevolently with chums. "My friends, how good of you to come." As if they had a choice. "Some of you I've not seen for months." His gaze touched on Lucius and a few others. "I'd like a report of your activities."

His unsettling gaze drifted back to Lucius, who bowed before speaking. "My lord, I've been promoted to second tier at the Ministry of Magic."

Something resembling a smile passed over Voldemort's contorted features. "Excellent. At this rate you'll be at a powerful level before too long. I can assume you're making the appropriate connections along the way?"

"Of course, my lord. My father's friends and acquaintances have become my own as well. I strive to ingratiate myself with anyone of consequence."

"Have you made any new followers for your master?"

Lucius swallowed a lump of bile, glad his mask hid the disconcerted set of his face. "No—not yet, I mean. It's a sensitive topic, master, and if I speak too much to the wrong people, all our work could be dashed. They'd sack me."

"We couldn't have that, could we?"

The way he said it, Lucius honestly couldn't tell whether he was serious or mocking him, so to be on the safe side he said, "I wish to please you."

Voldemort merely waved a hand in dismissal and went on to the next person: Mr. Avery's son, who'd been a year behind Lucius in school. He boasted of taking part in a Muggle torture with Dolohov, joyfully going into great detail. Lucius studied Lord Voldemort from the shelter of his concealment, how the man's eyes lit up and he almost seemed to inhale the words, to feed on the misery.

Although Lucius found it repulsive to relish it so, he shielded his thoughts as the dark lord had taught him. Occlumency definitely had its uses. At the same time he felt like a hypocrite, for he'd tortured Muggles himself, first on command of the master, later as a vengeance of sorts for his sister's death; Bella had been with him that day, she'd killed the Muggle he couldn't bring himself to murder. There had also been others since that day, when the dark lord brought the followers together to either witness a torture/murder session or to participate in one involving a known enemy of Lord Voldemort. Declining to partake was not an option, not if he wished to live through the night. Feelings were irrelevant; he did what he must do to survive.

The circle had fallen silent. Apparently the dark lord had finished questioning the rest while Lucius dwelt on his thoughts. He quickly brought his mind back, hoping he hadn't missed anything crucial. His glance shifted to a point off in the field where the others were focused; a man in Death Eater robes walked toward them, his wand pointed up into the sky. Suspended high in the air, wriggling frantically, was a man.

"Travers, bring him into the center," Voldemort instructed.

Travers did as ordered, walking between two Death Eaters who parted to let him through. When he was inside, he suddenly dropped the man, who screamed as he plunged toward the earth. A quick flash of his wand caught the prisoner inches from the ground. He laughed, a guttural, cruel sound, and the rest of the Death Eaters laughed with him.

"Enough play, Travers," said Voldemort, waving him off. Travers lifted his wand and the man smacked into the dirt. "Who have we here?" he asked the circled group.

They all stared intently at the man now crouched in terror, staring back at the hooded figures. To his credit, he made no sound, refused to plead for himself.

"Dearborn," one of them said finally.

Grasping on the name, another excitedly added, "One of that group forming against us and our cause!"

"Yes," agreed Voldemort, drawing out the 's' into a hiss. "Caradoc Dearborn, professed member of the illustrious Order of the Phoenix." His voice oozed contempt.

Several Death Eaters cursed Dearborn in the most profane language, reviling him as a Muggle lover. Ignorant of his parentage, they labeled him as a mudblood, a halfbreed, and a blood traitor to cover all bases as they ranted about his unfitness to live. Had the dark lord been absent, their wands would have made short work of him.

Grinning sadistically, Voldemort pointed his wand and Dearborn's body convulsed and jackknifed as it jumped in the air and slapped onto the ground. "I'm not greedy, my followers. "I'll allow each of you some sport—without the killing curse."

One finger pointed to the figure beside Voldemort. The delighted laugh and filthy language spewing forth made no bones of the fact that it was Bella. A thrust and twirl of her wand sent the poor man spinning end over end, barely missing the heads of a few Death Eaters on the other side, who protested loudly. She unceremoniously told them to cram it.

Next came Rodolphus. His curse, while unimaginative, brought the majority of Death Eaters great glee: the simple Cruciatus.

It was Lucius' turn. Even if he hadn't believed Dearborn deserved what he got for not recognizing pureblood superiority, for actively working against it, he didn't dare hesitate. His wand aimed at the earth all around Dearborn as he mumbled an incantation, then he pointed at the man with a final command. Rocks of various sizes, some as large as a fist, worked themselves free of the dirt to slam into the man from all angles. He moaned and dropped, his head beginning to bleed from several lacerations.

"Nice one, blondie!" Bellatrix crowed.

One by one the Death Eaters tortured the man until the circle came back around to Voldemort. By this time, Dearborn was scarcely conscious. "You see what becomes of those who oppose me?" he sneered. "But I can be merciful even to an enemy. I shall end your suffering by ending your pitiful existence. _Avada kedavra!_"

The familiar green jet shot from his wand, killing the man instantly. He looked around at his followers, then delivered the lofty announcement, "If you wish to mutilate the body, feel free, but dispose of it when you finish. If not, you may go. Bellatrix, I trust I'll see you shortly." He Disapparated.

"Where'd he go, Bella?" asked Rodolphus.

Bellatrix pointed to the farmhouse. "After we finish with Dearborn, I'll be home late." One would be hard pressed to determine whether her mad smile of anticipation was for the corpse mutilation to come or the celebration afterward.

Rodolphus shrugged indifferently. He'd known about his wife's affair with the dark lord for over three years, it didn't bother him at all, as long as she made time for him now and again. Lucius, on the other hand, shuddered to think of her with the master, although he had to admit her personality suited Voldemort perfectly. Who cared anyway? He needed to get home to his own wife.

By the time he arrived home, supper was already underway. He removed his robes and mask and proceeded to the table.

Without a word, the look on Narcissa's face said she desperately wanted to know why he'd been called and what he'd done. Instead she gave a weak smile. "Hello, Lucius."

"Hello, my love. He wanted to know how my work is progressing," said Lucius truthfully, even if he was omitting a huge part of the evening. "Hello, Father. Damien." He pulled out his chair and sat down to eat.


	5. Chapter 5

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Five

(Boxter: I mentioned in chapter 1 that Narcissa is infertile, but never gave a reason except that it's medically based, that's why she can't have children.)

Not far and he'd be well past the damned Gryffindor entrance. From there it was a clear shot to Slytherin House. Must walk faster. The halls are ominously empty, he's late, he spent too much time trying to perfect his potion.

Severus' heart began to pump furiously. He loathed crowds; he loathed the emptiness more. It was so forlorn, so…dangerous. Yes, that was the word. _They_ always came out when the rest were gone, particularly since Dumbledore gave them detention and notified their parents of the_levicorpus_ de-pants-ing incident. He flushed furiously, shamed all over again even though it had been nearly a year ago. Their pitiful punishment hadn't halted their cruel pranks, only driven them underground, and he sensed their presence now. Grasping his wand firmly, he whirled around.

He was right! The astonished looks on their smug faces would have delighted Severus if he weren't furious and afraid. Without waiting for the Marauders to make the first move, he threw a chest-crushing hex that lifted James off his feet, slammed him into Lupin, and the two fell in a heap.

Sirius immediately fired back, joined by Peter, though Severus easily deflected both spells. He shot Peter a boil inducing charm which the dimwit wasn't quick or clever enough to counter. His body instantly broke out in oozing sores. Back and forth it went, James joining Sirius to battle Severus, the Marauder shouts echoing through the halls in contrast to Severus' silent, focused dueling.

"That is enough!" roared Professor McGonagall. A quick _immobulus_ stopped them all in their tracks. Amazingly fast for a prim old woman, she hurried over to the students frozen in place. "I'm going to release you, and then we're all going to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. If I even _think_ one of you is plotting a hex, I'll turn you into a toad." She waited a few seconds for it to sink in, then pronounced the countercharm.

They started raving at once, which Minerva fixed by silencing them all. They continued to yammer away until they realized no one could hear them, at which point they resentfully followed her long, swishing cloak to Dumbledore's office.

"What have we here, Professor?" the Headmaster inquired with a tiny frown, which was barely visible behind his immensely long white beard. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his crooked nose to study the boys. He knew full well the only reason they could be here, as this was hardly the first time these five had made an appearance together.

"He started it!" Potter fumed, rubbing at the spot on his gut where the spell had hit him.

"We didn't do anything," Sirius agreed. "He just started firing."

Dumbledore turned to Severus, who crouched warily against the wall, keeping his eyes on his enemies. "Mr. Snape, what do you say?"

The boy's black eyes peered back at the old man, occasionally flicking over to the Marauders. As usual, it was four against one. Whatever he had to say would mean nothing. He hung his head and said nothing.

"Minerva, please take these boys outside. I'd like to question them individually."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore." She shooed the Marauders out of the office.

"It's only me now, Severus. Tell me what happened."

Severus lifted his head, his face set stonily. "What's the point? They'll lie and you'll believe them."

"Humor me." Dumbledore sat down at his desk and picked up a piece of candy. He offered the bowl to the boy, who shook his head.

"They were following me," said Severus quietly. "I knew they'd do something, they always do, so I surprised them and struck first."

"Mm-hmm," said the man. It didn't sound comforting. "So you really did, in effect, start the fight."

"Yes, sir, but they…" What was the use? Better to take the penalty and be done with it. The bastards had been tormenting him from the first year, it wasn't as if the Headmaster would give a rat's ass now.

"Severus, fighting is not the answer. You said they always do something to you. Have you spoken to Professor Slughorn about these boys?"

Snape shook his head again. His hair, extra greasy from the fumes of his potion, clung to the sides of his face. "They're Gryffindor. What could he do?"

"He could notify me."

Without willing it, Severus snorted derogatorily, then realizing what he'd done, his eyes grew wide. If he riled the Headmaster, he might be expelled. At the very least he'd have an owl sent home detailing the events from a warped viewpoint. Severus didn't care if his mother knew, but his father might well take it as an excuse not to let him return to Hogwart's next year. As miserable and lonely as life here was, it was still better than home.

Dumbledore stood up, prompting the boy to slide further away. Just because he'd never heard of the old wizard hitting a student didn't mean it never happened.

"Come here, Severus."

Dumbledore motioned him over. He stayed put against the wall. Stymied by the evident reluctance, the man moved around the desk to approach him. Severus braced for the blow; he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of cringing or crying out. The man reached out to grasp his shoulders and stared hard into the boy's eyes. The instant Severus felt the Legilimens touch, he clamped his mind shut. He would prefer to be struck than to have his mind invaded.

Smiling wryly, Dumbledore let him go. "Occlumency? Who taught you?"

"No one, sir. I've always known how," he answered hesitantly, although the pride in his voice shown through.

"Interesting." The old wizard walked back to his desk. He'd get no information through Legilimency, and Snape was not exactly cooperating on his own. But why? That was what he couldn't understand. One boy alone does not start a duel with four others, especially a bright boy like Severus. Did he think the Headmaster was so partial to Gryffindor as to side with them no matter the circumstances? "Severus, do you believe me to be unfair?"

"I—I don't know," he stammered, caught off guard.

"I may be old, but I'm no fool, son. Neither are you. What could you hope to gain by attacking four students at once?"

Severus opened his mouth, not even sure what he planned to say.

"I don't believe you would do so unless you felt pressured," Dumbledore answered himself. "Unless you felt there was no alternative. Which brings us back to where you told me these boys frequently harass you. Why do you not come to me when this happens?"

"It's not always all of them at once," Severus said softly. "Should I inform you when I fight back, so I can be punished, too?" Because it was evidently not meant as insolence or a challenge, Dumbledore let him go on. "Should I relive my humiliation on the off-chance the torment will stop? You can't be everywhere, and they'll lie about their part in it. It's easier to pretend it never occurred."

"Bullying cannot be tolerated."

In a voice very nearly a whisper, Severus said, "Sometimes it must be."

A wave of sorrow washed over Dumbledore. He was failing in his duty to protect this student. How many others might there be who felt as isolated and persecuted? He strode to the door and flung it open, then stood there glaring at the four young men. Sirius and James put on innocent faces, Peter looked positively wretched since Minerva hadn't even attempted to cure his sores; of the four, only Remus had the decency to look ashamed.

"Minerva, escort Mr. Pettigrew to Madame Pomfrey. Remus, come in here, please." He turned to Snape. "Severus, you may go. You will be serving two weeks detention with me, starting tonight."

Sirius and James tried to hide their smiles at this last comment. As Severus passed, he heard a low snicker, making him grit his teeth. He hadn't expected anything else, but it still rankled. The door shut behind him.

"Remus, look at me."

He sounded annoyed, angry even. For Remus, who had only ever known the man to be kind and helpful, the tone alarmed him. He didn't want anyone mad at him, most of all not Dumbledore. The teenager raised his eyes slowly to the man's face.

"Why were the four of you in the corridor?"

Remus wanted to lie, wanted to make it out to be wholly Snape's fault, but he couldn't. He hated lying and he hated the way his friends constantly picked on Severus. Sure, sometimes it was funny, but mostly he wished they'd just quit it. If he weren't afraid in the back of his mind that they'd stop being his friend, that they'd turn their malevolence on him, he'd be more forceful in demanding they quit.

"We were following Snape," he admitted in a high voice that didn't sound remotely natural to his ears.

"Why?"

"James and Sirius wanted to. They… they planned to ambush him." He dropped his head, unable to bear the Headmaster's accusing gaze telling him he was not only a snitch, he was a horrible person!

"Are you telling me you had no part in it?" Dumbledore asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were there."

"I only went because they did."

"Yet you had no intention to participate?" Dumbledore clucked his tongue and shook his head in disbelief. "Why else would you be there?"

A single tear rolled down the boy's face, hidden by his shaggy hair. "Because I'm a coward. I didn't want them to laugh at me. I don't have a lot of friends, and I don't want to lose the ones I have." He wiped at his face with his sleeve.

"So you're willing to bully another boy who has few friends," observed the Headmaster. "To laugh at him and make him feel the way _you_ don't want to feel. That's rather cruel and hypocritical, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Remus choked out before the guilt sent him into a fit of sobs.

It was at this moment Dumbledore opened the door once more. The two boys waiting outside stiffened and their eyes widened on hearing their friend weeping piteously. They exchanged horrified glances. What had Dumbledore done to him?

"You three, as well as Mr. Pettigrew, will be serving two weeks detention with Mr. Filch." Their dismay grew by leaps and bounds. "And I would advise you all to be on your best behavior with him. He doesn't really like students."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa had interviewed seven men; she'd openly dismissed all the women who applied with the simple reasoning that the demon spawn in her charge was too unmanageable for one woman alone. She'd gleaned this from experience. References had been checked, all she needed to do was make a choice. None would refuse the job, considering the pay she offered. She flipped through the parchments.

Mr. Burly. She liked the name, it sounded competent, it sounded—oh, hell's bells, it sounded big and strong. Hopefully mean, too, but she couldn't expect _everything_. He was a sturdy man, young and full of energy. Yes, he'd do as the flying coach.

As for the tutor, well, pickings were a bit slimmer. Apparently word had gotten out in the teaching community that Malfoys could be 'difficult'. Go figure. She had to choose between an intellectual who probably hadn't removed his face from a book long enough to glimpse the real world, or a man who quite possibly had never _read_ a book. Erring on the side of caution, and not wishing to endure a lecture from Abraxas, she decided on the egghead, Mr. Fulton. At least he was capable of teaching; she hoped Damien was capable of learning.

The following morning Mr. Burly showed up promptly for the flying lesson. He remained in the foyer, where Narcissa gave him specific instructions and rules while waiting for the elf to bring Damien. On the child's approach, Narcissa did a doubletake and her jaw dropped open.

"Damien, what have you done to your hair?"

The lad raked a hand through his now platinum blond locks. "Nothing, Mother." He looked up at her with eyes the exact same shade of gray as her husband's.

Her stomach made a little leap. She snatched him by the arm and dragged him into a nearby sitting room. "This is not funny! How did you do this?"

"Father did it," he whimpered, pulling away and rubbing his arm. "Before he left for work. He said I should look more like the family."

Narcissa suppressed an urge to vomit. "Go to your teacher," she breathed.

The boy skipped off and Narcissa slipped down onto the sofa. This was insane, this whole idea from start to finish. Adopting a child was one thing; _buying_ an heir from a relative was another. Changing his appearance to 'look like the family' was certifiable! What was next, changing his name? But then, hadn't Lucius said that option was available? Had he already secretly selected a name?

"Oh, Lucius," she whispered. "What is happening to you… to us?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus knocked nervously on the Headmaster's door, wondering what terrible things Dumbledore had dreamed up for his detention. The door opened magically and he inched inside.

"There you are, Severus." Dumbledore came clomping down the steps from his upper level. "What would you like to do?"

"Sir?" Evidently he hadn't heard right.

"For your detention. Have you any preferences?"

The boy returned a confused stare. "That's your job, isn't it, sir? To assign me unpleasant tasks, I mean." He'd really rather not heap coals on his own head.

Dumbledore put an arm around his shoulders and led him into the office, pushing him gently down into a chair. "Severus, I don't want to punish you. I believe you were defending yourself today, but to make it fair I had to give detention to everyone involved."

Severus' ears perked up. He'd assumed Potter and his filthy gang had got off scot free, as usual. Ah, shit! Did that mean they'd be showing up _here_? On impulse he twisted around to glance at the doorway. Sensing the lad's anguish, Dumbledore patted him on the back, smiling.

"The other boys are serving their time with Mr. Filch. Now, as I was saying, there are a variety of things you could do. Personally, I thought it might be nice to teach you a few spells to help you blend into the wall, to make you less of a target, if you get my meaning."

He truly wasn't going to be punished! Being used as he was to undeserved castigations, escaping retribution for his deeds seemed almost miraculous, certainly unprecedented. He didn't quite know how to react. Gratified and touched by this unexpected and simple show of compassion, Severus blinked back an unaccustomed wetness clouding his sight.

"Yes, sir, I'd like that."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius came home to a quiet house. Funny, he'd thought with Damien around there'd be more life, more clamor. He shrugged off his cloak and pulled off his gloves. Momentarily he heard a mumbling noise in the parlor closest to the foyer and went to investigate. Damien lay on the floor, his arm extended under the sofa, calling softly to something.

"What are you doing?"

Damien wrenched himself upward in shock, pinching and bruising his arm and causing him to squeal. "Nothing."

"How do you address me?"

"Nothing, Father," the lad amended. He continued to steal glances under the sofa.

"Don't lie to me, son," Lucius warned. In two strides he was close enough to yank the boy to his feet. Holding Damien in one hand, with his wand he levitated the sofa a meter into the air, revealing a tiny white kitten that swiftly scurried under a chair. "Where did _that_ come from?" he drawled, lifting an eyebrow.

"Mr. Burly found it when we went flying," Damien babbled, looking up in fear at the man clutching his arm. "I liked it and he said I could have it and grandfather didn't say I couldn't have it and—"

"What did your mother say?" He let the couch bang down onto the floor. The sound of it made the kitten mew pitifully.

Damien pulled feebly at his arm. The circulation was cut off, it hurt and felt numb at the same time. "I didn't ask her, Father."

Lucius let him go. "Stand up straight. From now on you will not lie to me or there will be severe consequences. Also, you will either ask me or Mother if you want something."

"Can I have her, Father? Please?" His gray eyes pierced Lucius.

"_May_ I have her," Lucius corrected him.

"May I have her, Father?"

"I suppose. Make sure the house elves clean up after the creature."

"I will!" He threw his arms around Lucius, who recoiled instinctively, then relaxed and returned the embrace. It felt odd, but nice.

"Go fish her out of there," Lucius said. "I'll see you at supper."

He Apparated into his bedroom, where Narcissa seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time lately. The expression she greeted him with made him wish he hadn't come at all.

"Hello, Lucius," she clipped. Daggers shot from her blue eyes.

"What did I do now?" he moaned.

"You changed Damien's hair and eye color. How could you do that?"

"First of all, I didn't change them," he remarked with a smirk. "I charmed him so anyone looking at him sees blond hair and gray eyes. What's wrong with that?" He flipped his own hair over his shoulder.

"What was wrong with him the way he was?" she exclaimed.

Lucius laughed out loud. "_You_, who think he's Satan's child, dare ask _me_ a question like that? Smacks of hypocrisy, my love."

"You can't make him someone else, Lucius."

"I'm training him up as a Malfoy, Narcissa. If he looks like one, all the better." He headed toward the bathroom, then stopped and turned around. "Why can't you try to like him? He's just a little boy."

He didn't wait for an answer. A few moments later the sound of the shower drowned out any reply she might have made.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"That's still a rusty pile o' crap!" Filch growled at Peter, who cowered against the wall in one of the dungeons.

"But I—I tried to clean it," Peter mumbled, holding the manacle of a chain in one hand, a polishing rag in the other.

"How are we supposed to get the rust off without our wands?" asked Sirius.

"It's called elbow grease, ya lazy chimps," said Filch, patting his pocket where all four wands sat comfortable and safe. "If I can do it, you can."

James piped up, "Why do we have to clean these anyway? No one ever uses them."

"We can always hope, can't we?" grinned Filch, showing his filthy teeth. He tossed a bottle of cleaning solution at James, who caught it easily. "Get to it. If I tell the Headmaster you're not workin' like I said, he just might extend your time to three weeks. Maybe even four."

Grimacing, the boys began to scrub feverishly. Filch sat down on a stool he'd brought with him, picked up Mrs. Norris, and stroked the cat lovingly. He despised children, especially wizard children, who thought themselves better than him. Let them work with their hands for a change and see how the rest live!


	6. Chapter 6

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Six

Abraxas Apparated outside his front door on a bone-chilling late February day as he did every day after work. A movement off to his left, far off in the front yard, caught his eye. Damien sat on the lone swing attached to a huge, old oak tree, kicking feebly at the snow under his feet. Perplexed, Abraxas started across the white lawn, unused to the crunch of snow under his feet, the cold wetness edging under his pantlegs. It had been a long time since he'd enjoyed being outdoors in the winter.

Huddled in a ball beside the tree, a house elf saw the master coming and jumped up. "Master Malfoy, Sisidy wishes to bring Master Damien in. Is Master Malfoy wanting something?"

"No." He walked past the elf with hardly a glance. "Damien, why are you out here in the cold?"

"I don't like being in the house, sir," he answered, staring at the ground.

"Why not?"

"It's so big, and empty."

"Where's your mother?"

Damien hesitated, biting his lip to stop himself from saying what he really wanted to say. "I think she went shopping or something."

Abraxas came round in front of him, squatting down to look at him. "I want you to tell me the truth. Do you know what happens if you lie?"

The boy nodded solemnly. "Father said there would be… something bad. I think it means he'll beat me."

"That's right, and I couldn't stop him because he'd be doing his duty by you. Now tell me, has Mother hurt you?"

Damien stared into the man's gray eyes, studied the thick, silvery blond hair curling around his ears and brushing his collar. "No, sir. She never did."

"Has she threatened you?"

"No, sir."

Once again confused, Abraxas shifted a little on his stiffening legs. "Yet I have the feeling you don't like her. Why?"

Damien shrugged, consciously dropping his eyes. "Grandfather, did you grow up here?"

Abraxas smiled and stood up, stretching his legs. "Yes, I did. I used to swing on the very swing you're using. As the heir, I inherited the place when my parents died."

"And Father is your heir?"

"Yes. One day everything will be his."

Damien continued to stare at the ground as he kicked the snow beneath him into a pile of mush. "If you had another son, would you give him away?"

"I did have another son," Abraxas confessed quietly. "He was my eldest, but he died." He lifted the boy's chin in his palm, gently forcing his face up. "I love all my children, I couldn't have given any of them away."

"I'm an extra," Damien said bitterly. "They didn't want me."

"That's not true. Your parents love you, but they wanted to give you a better life. In time, you'll see that."

The lad shook his face free and stood up. "I'm cold. Can I—may I go inside?"

Abraxas nodded and the boy dashed off toward the mansion with the man watching him. The house elf skipped along behind him, relieved to be going in as well. _What an odd little boy_, Abraxas thought. One day he seemed loving and happy, the next brooding and sulky. Did he even want to be here? Not that his desires mattered: the deal had been struck, money had changed hands, the boys' parents had signed the documents. All that remained was for Lucius and Narcissa to sign during the meeting scheduled in a few days' time.

Misgivings over this whole affair flooded Abraxas' brain, not for the first time, which irritated him no end. A Malfoy knew his mind, he didn't vacillate! He'd encouraged Lucius to do this; he'd look like a spineless idiot if he changed his mind now, and who's to say his son would even listen? Lucius wasn't known for being particularly obedient or responsive, hence the multitude of thrashings he'd had to dish out over the years. And when all was said and done, even though he was Lucius' father, Abraxas couldn't forbid him to adopt the boy. He had the right to an heir. Besides, Damien may be less than ecstatic at the moment, but he'd be grateful later. It was a ridiculous waste of time to dwell on it. Heaving a sigh, he trudged back up to the manor.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus kept his wand close to the ground, its tip glowing against the plants, reflecting off snow and ice. He shivered under his robes, which were the best he could afford, yet poor quality nonetheless, and he found it necessary to breathe on his fingers repeatedly to warm them.

He didn't like the idea of being in the Forbidden Forest, at night no less, but as that's when the full moon tends to come out, he had no choice. The plant he was looking for had to be picked tonight or wait another moon cycle. He'd made a promise to Lucius, the least he could do was fulfill it to the best of his ability.

At last he found what he'd been searching for. One hand clamped around the frozen, dead leaves while he wiggled the roots free with the aid of a spell. He stuffed the whole thing into a small sack he'd brought along and tucked it into his robes, then hurried to the edge of the forest. He left the sense of oppression behind him along with all the terrors lurking in those woods.

High above the castle grounds, Sirius and James were sharing a prohibited night flight on their brooms. James motioned to his friend to come near, then pointed down at the ant-like figure scurrying out of the forest.

"Somebody's coming out of the forest. I wonder who it is?"

"That's pretty weird," Sirius remarked. "Nobody goes in there, especially at night!"

"Maybe it's one of the teachers," James offered.

"Maybe," Sirius agreed, then pointed down at two more tiny figures crossing the lawn toward the Whomping Willow. "There's Moony and Pomfrey." He observed them from his lofty perch, then noticed something peculiar. "James, look! The one who came out of the forest—doesn't it look like he's hiding? If he was a teacher, he wouldn't care if Madame Pomfrey saw him."

James studied the scene. "I think you're right. Whoever it is was up to something and doesn't want to get caught. Speaking of which, we'd better go in before _we_ get caught. There are too many people out tonight."

"You go on, I'll be along in a minute."

James swooped down to the castle, grabbed up his broom, and ran inside. Sirius circled around lower and lower. Madame Pomfrey was heading back to the castle as well. As soon as she was gone, he landed and ran for the Whomping Willow to see if the student he'd seen was anywhere about. As luck would have it, the student happened to be standing out of reach of the wicked tree, peering at it curiously.

"You!" Sirius yelped.

Severus spun around, wand at ready. "Why are you following me?"

"I'm not," the other retorted. "I saw you coming out of the forest."

Noting the broom in his hand, Severus admitted to himself it could be possible the obnoxious twit was telling the truth, which might not be a good thing. He wasn't permitted in the forest… but then again, Sirius wasn't supposed to be flying at night, either.

"You can put your wand down," said Sirius, not at all liking the way it aimed directed at his head. "I'm not planning to duel."

"As if you could win," Severus drawled with a sneer. The wand didn't move. "Where did Lupin go?"

"You were sneaking around watching, you should know. He went in _there_." Sirius indicated the Whomping Willow.

"Why?"

With a little shrug and a fiendishly smug smirk, Sirius replied, "I guess you'll have to go in and find out. All you have to do is push that knot on the trunk with a long stick and the tree will stop moving."

"Why should I trust _you_?"

"I've been there. It leads to the Shrieking Shack."

Intrigued, but keeping his face impassive, Severus raced through the facts. Lupin was in there; quite possibly this is where he disappeared every month when the Marauders showed up strutting around the castle without him. It was a full moon… Madame Pomfrey led Lupin here, which meant it wasn't a furtive place to take a girl…didn't he always go missing on a full moon? If, as he suspected, Lupin was a werewolf, he could tell everyone and the boy would be drummed out of school. Then he'd only have three assholes to get rid of so he could have some semblance of a normal life. This opportunity was too good to pass up, but still, this was _Sirius_.

"If I go in, you'll tell on me or do something to keep me from getting back."

"I swear, _I_ won't do anything. I'll even make an Unbreakable Vow if you want." He paused, receiving no answer. Unable to resist, he added, "Are you afraid?"

"No!"

Sirius gave a derisive chortle. "It's alright, we don't call you Snivellus for nothing." Ignoring the wand pointed at him, he turned and walked off, smiling to himself. Snape was too nosy to let it go, he'd have to investigate. It was probably better if Sirius was nowhere near.

Severus resisted the urge to hex the pompous bastard as he swaggered off. How he despised Sirius Black, almost as much as he hated James Potter! Well, possibly every bit as much… no, he definitely hated Potter more. He waited a few minutes to be sure Black was really gone as his ears strained for sounds of the loathsome pack of jackals lurking about. Using his wand, he picked up a chunk of ice and threw it at the knot on the tree. Instantly it stopped moving, which surprised him. True words had actually spilled from the Black scoundrel's mouth! Looking around again and seeing no one, Severus stooped down to enter a large hole near the ground.

Sirius returned to his room laughing to himself. James was sitting on his bed playing catch the snitch with himself, Peter was eating something by the window.

"You guys won't believe this," he crowed. "I got Snivellus _good_."

"How?" asked Peter with his mouth full.

"He's the one who was in the forest, James. I sent him into the Whomping Willow."

James sat bolt upright, horror etched on his face. "You did _what_?"

Sirius leaped onto his bed and laid back, his head propped on his hands. "He wanted so bad to know where Remus was going, so I told him. I helped him along."

"Remus will kill him!"

Sirius snorted dubiously. "We can only hope. We're not that lucky."

James didn't reply. Already he was on his feet, tearing out the door. Heart pounding frantically, stomach gnarled in apprehension, he raced to the still-immobilized tree and dove headfirst into the hole. He dashed down the cavelike hallway leading to the Shrieking Shack, his shoes smacking loudly against the floor, his wand gripped in his fist. He was almost there, he didn't hear screams or roars, that was good…unless Remus had already finished with him. At the turn in the corridor he saw a shadowy robed figure that seemed to be staring his way, then rounded the corner.

"Snape!" he shouted. "Snape, get out!"

James slammed against the wall as he turned the corner and almost ran into Severus, who'd halted a short distance from the shack's entrance. He appeared mesmerized by a lean, hairy creature stalking about. Not thinking, James grabbed his arm and started pulling him down the corridor.

"We have to get out NOW" he hissed with terrified glances at the werewolf. "He'll see us!"

The spell broken, Severus turned and fled alongside Potter. The sound of their retreat seemed to stir the animal, who howled long and loud, making them run all the faster. James shimmied out of the hole, grasped ahold of Snape's robe, and physically dragged him out. The two lay panting on the ground for a time, then James spoke.

"What the hell did you go in there for? How stupid!"

Severus sat up, his perennially white face a bit more pallid. "Don't try to pretend you didn't have anything to do with it! Black never does anything without you—you were both trying to get me killed!"

"Really? Then why did I save you?"

"Technically, you didn't," Severus clipped. "I would've left—"

"Or got eaten! You were just standing there like an idiot!"

"You only came because you chickened out on your malicious plan!" spat Severus. "You were afraid they'd find out you were behind it! Then you, Black, and Lupin would all be sent to Azkaban where you belong!"

"Boys, your shouting is enough to wake the dead," Headmaster Dumbledore commented as he drew closer and stopped, his sharp eyes studying each one carefully. "In fact, all this activity in the castle halls and noise out here did wake a couple of our ghosts, and they notified me of students out and about at this hour. Pray tell, what are you doing out here?"

Neither of the young men cared to answer that particular question, so they ducked their heads and mumbled incoherently.

"It's been, let's see, perhaps a month since your detention finished last time," Dumbledore went on, ignoring them. "Apparently it wasn't very successful in bringing about a change of behavior."

"Remus Lupin is a werewolf!" Severus declared. He got to his feet, still a bit trembly from the excitement. "He's in the Shrieking Shack."

"Yes, Severus, I know," Dumbledore said, to the boy's utter dismay. "Come to my office, where Mr. Black should be waiting for us."

James managed a feeble, "Why would he be?"

"Because, Mr. Potter, rarely do the two of you part ways. If you're up to some sort of mischief, I can only conclude your bosom buddy is also involved." He shooed them off ahead of him. Only when he was certain they couldn't see his face, he relaxed into a bundle of relief. One or both of these students might have died tonight, but for the grace of God. How on Earth was he going to deal with such a diabolical issue?

Sure enough, a very sober Sirius was pacing Dumbledore's office when they arrived. He looked relieved to see James, which could only mean he'd known James was in danger. Dumbledore honestly couldn't read the expression on his face at catching sight of Severus. It seemed at once hostile and surprised, even somewhat confused.

"Sit down, boys. Let's start with what you were doing out tonight."

Nobody volunteered to begin.

Dumbledore prodded Sirius. "Go on."

"I, uh… I was flying." Sensing the chance to point the finger at Severus, he hurriedly added, "And I saw Sniv—Snape coming out of the forest."

"And?"

"And I saw him creeping around the Whomping Willow."

"Is that all?" inquired the Headmaster, completely unsatisfied with his account.

"I went back to my room and told James I saw Snape." Sirius kept his eyes pasted to the floor, dreading the thought of Dumbledore finding out the whole truth. Everything he'd said was true, even if he left out a lot. An awful lot.

Miraculously, Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, why were you in the Forbidden Forest?"

"I needed to collect a nightshade root," said the boy levelly. So saying, he removed the sack from his robes and handed it to Dumbledore. "On the full moon."

"Nightshade? Isn't that deadly?" asked James.

"He probably intended to kill us," muttered Sirius.

"You're a fine one to talk," snapped Severus with a sarcastic sneer. "I wouldn't expect morons like you to realize there are a wide variety of nightshade plants, most of which are perfectly harmless. If I wanted to poison you, I'd be a bit more surreptitious." The way he narrowed his eyes did nothing to alleviate the fear that he might, indeed, try to poison them in the future.

"Severus, why did you go into the Whomping Willow?" Dumbledore asked.

_Because I was stupid enough to trust a single word from Black's malevolent lips. Because I wanted to get Lupin out of Hogwart's. Because I hate them, I hate those damned Marauders, I wish they'd all die a horrifically painful death, why can't they get expelled and away from me! Why must you always be so frigging prying!_

"I'm waiting, Severus."

"I saw Lupin go in, Professor. I was curious."

"How did you know the method of calming the Whomping Willow?" the aged wizard continued.

Severus shot a hateful glance at Sirius, a move noticed by Dumbledore. Now all the pieces were fitting together, and he didn't like at all how the puzzle was shaping up.

"Sirius, I'm appalled that you would permit Severus to enter the Shrieking Shack, knowing your friend was at the other end!" If Dumbledore had been the violent type, he would have cuffed the boy across the head. "And don't deny it! James, what was your part in all of this?"

Realizing it was futile to try to hide anything, James confessed, "When Sirius told me about Snape, I went running to stop him. I don't like him, but I didn't want him mauled or… anything. I pulled him out of there."

"I was perfectly capable of pulling myself out," Severus replied coldly.

Fuming, Dumbledore stalked up and down the room. It had been a deliberately malicious act on the part of Sirius, a foolhardy and rulebreaking act on the part of the other two. In fact, a veritable plethora of rules had been broken this night! And yet, if he expelled Sirius, his parents would demand to know why, Remus' condition would be made public and he—an innocent party—would be forced to leave as well.

He drew in a deep breath, then addressed Snape. "Severus, I want your promise that you will tell no one that Remus is a werewolf."

"Professor—" he began to protest.

"Promise. Me."

Severus looked up at him from where he sat. Dumbledore was one of the few people in the world who'd ever been truly kind to him. If it meant this much to the old wizard, shouldn't he agree? "I promise," he whispered.

"Good, thank you. Although I rightfully ought to assign you and James a full year of detention, I think you've suffered enough. Both of you return to your Houses immediately."

The boys got up to go.

"And, Severus? If you feel the need to enter the Forbidden Forest again, I suggest you notify me and we'll arrange for an escort." He handed him the bag containing the nightshade.

"Thank you, Professor, I will."

Complete, unremitting silence reigned after they'd gone. Dumbledore paced with his hands behind his back and stared at Sirius for a good twenty minutes. The latter kept his head down, nervously anticipating a severe scolding or worse. Every time the man passed him he expected a hard clip on the ear.

At last Dumbledore said, "Sirius, I don't even know where to begin. I have never been so ashamed of a student with such potential. I cannot comprehend the depravity that would not only allow a boy to walk to his death, but actively encourage it. You have disappointed me on a level I didn't know existed."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Sirius said meekly.

"Words can hold tremendous power. Your words—right here, right now—mean absolutely nothing to me, as I'm sure they'd mean nothing to Severus. Until you can prove to me that I'm wrong, that you're not a vicious, vindictive thug, I have nothing more to say to you. Please leave my office."

Sirius got up slowly, wounded inside by the harsh words and by the way the Headmaster turned his back to him. He swallowed hard, tempted to speak and certain he shouldn't. Plodding out, he started off toward his House. James would ask what Dumbledore said…he couldn't bear to hear the words rattling around in his skull, let alone say them himself. Was he really that awful? It was a prank, Snape wouldn't really have got hurt, not too bad, anyway. But what if he had? Could he live with knowing he'd caused a boy's death, even if the boy was Snape? And _Lupin_. He'd be a murderer through no fault of his own, and who would he blame? Sirius, of course! And well-deserved it would be.

He'd stopped in the middle of the corridor, where he stood contemplating the evening. Finally he turned and started in a different direction, purposefully striding directly to Mr. Filch's quarters. He knocked, cringing as he remembered what time it was.

Filch, more disheveled and grumpy than usual, flung open the door. "Whattaya want?"

"I'm to have detention with you."

A glint of glee brightened the caretaker's face. "For how long?"

Sirius shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was quiet in their bedroom. It was always quiet now, unless they were arguing. Lucius lay on his side of the bed staring through the darkness at the ceiling. Any joy they used to share had been sucked from their lives, leaving a very bleak existence. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

"Narcissa," he said softly.

"Yes?"

So, she was awake, too. For some reason this knowledge pleased him. "Do you remember what tomorrow is?"

"March first," she answered, not even bothering to look at him.

"Yes, but—"

"I know, Lucius!" she hissed. "I don't want to talk about Damien or his adoption or what a wretched person I am!"

"You're not wretched, Narcissa. I am."

Silence. Then, slowly, she rolled over to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been pushing you so hard, blaming you for deliberately disliking Damien," he confessed, feeling his face flush and grateful for the dark so she wouldn't see it. "I never even gave you a chance to mourn not having your own baby. I'm sorry."

More silence. At first Lucius thought she was waiting for more, until he heard a sharp intake of breath and a muffled sob. In a flash his heart melted and he scooted over to hold her; she rested her head on his chest and burst out weeping, her tears soaking his night robe, his hands stroking her hair and her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he whispered over and over. "I love you so much, I need you so much." He kissed the top of her head as he squeezed her.

"I'm sorry, too," Narcissa choked out. She lifted her head to look at him and his heart broke all over again at the sight of her tearstained face. "I wanted to give you a baby, Lucius. I feel like such a failure!" Her sobbing resumed as she buried her face against him.

"You're not, it isn't your fault," he soothed. All at once he realized he meant it. Up to now he _had_ been blaming her for her inability to conceive, but now he didn't. She was a victim the same as he was. "I love you."

"I—love—you," she sobbed.

If he could have held her any tighter without crushing her, he would have. Minutes passed in the blink of an eye as he gazed down at his beloved secure in his arms. He never wanted to let her leave his arms again. "I missed you, my love. Holding you, kissing you…loving you."

"I felt so alone," she murmured, reaching for a handkerchief to wipe her nose and dry her eyes. "I was starting to wonder… to think you didn't want me anymore." A new rush of tears began spilling down her cheeks.

"I will _always_ want you." Lucius cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. "Always." He kissed her again, devouring her lips in a fit of passion, inflamed and encouraged by her own hungry desire pressing against him, her slim fingers unbuttoning his robe, trailing over his body to linger at certain key points. Oh, how he'd missed that!

Tomorrow he'd deal with tomorrow. Right now he needed to prove his love, and maybe a little more.


	7. Chapter 7

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seven

"Good morning, love," Lucius smiled over at Narcissa. "You look ravishing."

"You mean ravished," she retorted with a laugh. Ruefully she examined her husband's rumpled hair and the tiny bite marks and not-so-tiny hickeys she'd put on his neck. Her finger traced lightly over them. "I think you'd better either heal these things or charm them so no one thinks we're perverts."

"I don't care what they think," he answered, yet even as he spoke, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Malfoys are genteel. Glaring suck marks on the neck are not generally considered refined. Even so, he wanted to keep them, to smile when he saw them as he remembered why they were there. "I'll wear a high collar."

"You do look good in high collars," she agreed.

"In which case, it wouldn't really hurt to give me a few more, would it," he chuckled as he pounced on her again.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"They're here," said Lucius, poking his head into Narcissa's library. "We need to go downstairs." He was dressed immaculately, as always, hair pulled back in a black ribbon.

Narcissa laid aside the letter she was writing and capped the ink, then set the quill down with a long exhalation of air. She stood up and smoothed her already perfect robes. "I'll go get Damien."

"I'll do it, honey."

"No, love. If he's to be my son, I need to take an active role." She forced a smile as she drifted past him, suddenly giggling when he grabbed her rump and squeezed. "Mr. Malfoy!"

"Mrs. Malfoy," he whispered right before kissing her. "I love you."

"You'd better."

She walked down the hallway, conscious of her husband's gaze on her back. For the first time in two months, it was a comforting feeling. For his benefit, she purposely accentuated the sway of her hips, and smiled to herself as she entered Damien's room.

The boy was lying on his bed next to his curled up kitten, crying softly.

Narcissa crossed the room and laid her hand on his head, startling him. "Damien, are you alright?"

"What do you care?" he said spitefully, turning over as he tried to brush away the tears.

"I care because I'm your mother."

"No, you're not!" He scuttled across the bed to distance himself from her, waking the kitten, who leaped off the bed and dashed from the room.

_Control your temper, he's just a child_. "Damien, perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. I want us to be friends."

"Well, I don't! Mummy said if I made you hate me, you wouldn't want me and I could go home, but it was a lie like everything else!" His face screwed up and he began to bawl again, loudly this time.

Narcissa came around, careful not to touch him, and sat on the edge of the bed. "So you _tried_ to make me hate you?"

Damien nodded, the tears streaming from his eyes so hard he couldn't see her clearly. "I was afraid to make Father mad, though. Mummy said he might beat me if I wasn't good, and I don't want him to hurt me like he does you."

Taken aback, she blinked a few times. "What do you mean?"

"A lot of times I snuck outside your door to listen," he admitted, rubbing his eyes. "You fight a lot, and last night I heard you screaming."

"What?"

"You screamed, 'Lucius, oh God, Lucius'," he sniffed. "Don't you remember?"

Narcissa's face flushed a deep scarlet. She recalled quite vividly, although she found the thought of this boy hearing it at her door extremely disconcerting.

"I don't think my wife wishes to discuss it," said Lucius from the doorway, holding back a smirk. In his arm he carried the white kitten. "Sweetheart, why don't you go down and greet the Claytons? I'd like to talk to Damien."

Still mortified, Narcissa nodded and hurried out, unaware of the expression of desperation settling on the lad's face.

"I heard most of your conversation," said Lucius. He handed the cat over to the boy, who took it quickly and immediately moved away. "You've been deliberately cruel to Moth—my wife, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir," the child whispered. He was actually trembling. "I won't do it again. I'll be good."

"What did your mummy tell you—and don't lie to me," Lucius warned with a stern look.

Damien stared at his feet. He had to tell or Father would whip him. He didn't want Father mad at him, not when he had to live here. "She said she didn't want me to come here, daddy made her sign the papers cuz he owed people money. And she said maybe if you or Mother didn't like me, you'd send me back home." Tears welled up in his eyes again, his lips started to quiver. "But it's not true, is it?"

Lucius looked down at the little boy clutching his kitten and sobbing as if his heart would break. He pulled the child to him and hugged him tenderly, allowing a few minutes for Damien to calm down and pull himself together.

"Come on, we need to go downstairs. Oh, wait." Lucius took out his wand and waved it over the child, revealing his true brown hair and eye color. Then he wiped the boy's face and eyes, took his hand, and led him away.

In the main sitting room, a tall, aristocratic-looking man with balding brown hair sat beside a svelte blond woman whose attitude mirrored those of the rest of the Malfoys. While evident from her clothing that she was not wealthy, she sat perfectly upright, face emotionless, wringing a dainty kerchief in her hands. They both rose as Lucius entered with Damien, though the woman betrayed her sentiments with a sharp gasp and unintentional movement toward the child. Her husband held her fast by the wrist.

"Mr. Clayton, Mrs. Clayton," Lucius drawled, shaking their hands.

"I _am_ your cousin, Lucius," the woman remarked. "You may call me Lydia."

Lucius drew Narcissa over to stand beside him. "Very well. We all know why we're here today, there's no point in wasting time on small talk." Lucius stole another glance at the boy sitting quietly on a chair, staring plaintively at his mum. "However, I'm not entirely sure it's the right thing for… me. I'm not sure I'm ready for a child."

Narcissa pressed his hand and gave him a questioning look. Was he trying to make negotiations harder, make the Claytons squirm? He returned the tiniest of smiles, so small it was likely unnoticed by anyone else.

Damien's father spoke up. "If he's giving you a hard time, we can talk to him."

"I've decided not to adopt Damien."

Mr. Clayton jumped to his feet. "You can't break the contract! I don't have the money, I used it to pay debts—"

Lucius squeezed back on Narcissa's hand so hard she winced, while holding up his other hand for silence. "Because I'm the one reneging on the contract, I forfeit the capital. You don't owe me anything."

Tentatively, making certain she wasn't hearing things, Lydia said, "So we owe you nothing _and_ we can take Damien home?"

"That's correct."

In a very un-Malfoy-esque manner, Lydia ran across the room to scoop up her son and squash him to her chest, finally letting out the bottled up emotion. With tears of gratitude dripping down her face and Damien in her arms, she turned to Lucius. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Lydia. Goodbye, Damien. Take good care of your kitten." His hand ruffled the boy's hair.

"I will," he mumbled as he tried to free himself from his mother's death grip. He looked over at Narcissa with mournful eyes. "I'm sorry I was mean to you, Mother—I mean, Mrs. Malfoy."

"I understand, Damien. Maybe now we can really be friends."

The boy smiled brightly and nodded.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"That was a very sweet thing you did, Lucius," Narcissa murmured. She pressed a bit closer to him on the sofa, so close she practically sat on his lap.

"What? Sending the kid home?" he answered gruffly. "It's not like I cared about him or anything."

Narcissa smiled to herself, seeing it for the lie it was. "I would've tried to be a good mother, you know."

"When it's time, you'll be a wonderful mother. But I couldn't do that to Damien. He was so unhappy."

"So was Lydia. I can't even imagine having my son taken away." She glanced up at her husband. "I feel terrible for all the misery we caused."

"I caused," he corrected her. "It was all my doing, with help from my father." He seemed to shrink a little and he grimaced. "I should probably go tell him what happened. He's bound to notice eventually that Damien is gone."

Narcissa punched him playfully in the chest. "He's not _that_ bad. I think he likes Damien."

"Which makes it even worse. He's liable to pitch quite a fit over me letting my heir walk off, especially if he likes the kid." Lucius stood up, bent down to kiss his wife, and winked at her. "If I come up missing, check his study. I might be stuffed under a floorboard."

As he walked away, his feigned good humor faded. Abraxas did seem rather attached to the boy, he'd likely be more than peeved when he discovered what Lucius had done. And the heir part… he was so sick of thinking and worrying about an heir! He wasn't even twenty-one, for crying out loud! Perhaps in the future a distant relative somewhere might produce a baby son they'd be willing to part with instead of a half-grown boy. Meanwhile, he had to face his father, and he hadn't wanted to do it in front of his wife. She'd never witnessed Abraxas hitting his son, and Lucius wanted to keep it that way. He knocked on the door to his father's study.

"Come in."

Abraxas sat at his desk, quill in hand, papers strewn all around. Evidently he was in the middle of something, probably another of his business deals to net the family more money with little or no expenditure of work. Lucius slipped inside and closed the door, his mind flooding with memories of many times in the past he'd been summoned here to be reprimanded before being ordered to his room to await the actual punishment. As if on cue, his eyes lit on his father's cane propped against the edge of the desk, and he shuddered. Slowly he stepped over to the desk, where he stood looking down at the parchments, feeling like a fifteen-year-old boy all over again.

"Yes, Lucius, what is it?" demanded the man impatiently. "I'm busy."

"Damien is gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'? He ran away? Why aren't you looking for him?" Abraxas got up, concern showing in his eyes. "Why are you backing up, do you think I'm going to slap you?"

"You might," his son answered truthfully. He halted in his tracks; he hadn't even realized he'd been moving.

His father's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped. "What did you do?"

"I refused to adopt Damien. I sent him home where he belongs." There, he'd said it.

For a long moment the older man merely scrutinized his son, searching for signs of one of his asinine jokes. He didn't appear to be joking. Damien was really gone, left without so much as a goodbye. It left him feeling a bit empty.

"Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed," Abraxas stated, firming up the perpetual mask of detachment he habitually wore. "But I think you did the right thing."

It was Lucius' turn to stare. He wasn't angry? "I thought you'd be furious that I blew my only chance for an heir."

"Who's to say he's your only chance? Miracles happen…occasionally. Maybe that potion will work for Narcissa," Abraxas offered hopefully.

Lucius allowed himself a tiny grin. "I haven't told Narcissa yet, but I asked Severus to try to invent a better potion."

"Severus Snape… Eileen's son?" asked his father, already sure of the answer.

"Yes, sir. He's an outstanding Potions Master. He agreed to try."

Abraxas nodded with a pensive air. As a teenager he'd been betrothed to Eileen Prince, five years his junior, for an arranged marriage. He'd broken the engagement to marry Lucius' mother, causing a major rift in the families and scandal in the community at large. Eileen had subsequently run away to live among the filthy Muggles, had even _married_ one, for which he'd never ceased to blame himself.

"As I hear, Eileen is rather gifted at potions, too," he murmured.

"That's what Severus tells me. If it's possible to make a superior fertility brew, he'll figure it out."

"You seem to have a lot of confidence in him," said Abraxas.

"Like I said, he's brilliant, and the best friend I have. I trust him implicitly," replied Lucius.

"That's good, I hope he's successful. Now get out, I have work to do."

Lucius wasted no time in obeying, leaving his father alone to reflect. Always he'd avoided Severus when he came to visit because of his guilt over Eileen; yet, were it not for this guilt, he'd not allow the halfblood in his house to begin with, nor permit his son—who'd been raised properly to regard only purebloods as worthy—to associate with Severus at all. He found it exceedingly ironic that it should be this particular halfblood willing to help Narcissa and Lucius produce a pureblood heir.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

There they were, as usual, parked in the middle of the snow-patched grass like they owned the place, laughing and talking. Severus watched James and Lily from a low wall of the castle where he'd settled in to study. It was a rare nice day, he'd have preferred to go outside in the sunshine himself, but old habits are hard to break, especially those reinforced by six years of taunts and torments. When the rest of the despicable gang showed up on the lawn, it was too much for him. He slammed the book shut, got down from the wall, and stalked off.

"Hey, Sev!" Nott came running up behind him.

"I asked you not to call me 'Sev'," replied the other.

Nott looked blankly at him as if he'd never heard such a request or that it was such an impossible request as to not bear heeding. "They're having a meeting later about Lord Voldemort. One of the seventh years is going to talk. He just got his Mark. Are you coming?"

"Yeah, sure," Severus agreed. Why not? It was something to do, something to take his mind off everything else.

"Great! It's in the common room at eight o'clock." Nott gave a curt wave and hustled off.

Severus continued walking. Being a halfblood, he obviously had issues with the Death Eater ideas of pureblood superiority, yet no one ever mentioned his bloodline, not to him, anyway. They accepted him into their group, they didn't tease him, they _respected_ him. From what he'd observed, the other students gave the known Death Eaters a wide berth, which he liked. It was impressive to be able to clear a room or inspire awe simply by raising up a sleeve, and it wasn't as if they were all out killing every night, as Death Eaters were purported to do. The whole thing was ridiculously blown out of proportion; Lucius was a Death Eater and he never murdered anyone! Lucius wouldn't talk about what he _did_ do, but he'd confessed that much to Severus.

As he mused, he wandered in a virtual daze, from force of habit, to the Potions lab. It seemed he spent all his time here anymore, although to be fair he'd _always_ spent an inordinate amount of time here. Setting his _The Joy of Dark Arts_ book on a table, he began to gather herbs to add to the potion brewing in his room. His roommates had at first objected to the smelly concoctions he tried; their protests ended abruptly when he 'accidentally' let it slip that a Death Eater had requested the potion. In fact, they seemed to view him in a whole new, reverent light.

"_The Joy of Dark Arts_," read Lily from behind him. "Is this a joke?"

Severus spun around, nearly dropping a vial of crushed poppy leaves, and barely catching it. Professor Slughorn would not have been pleased! "Lily, hi. No, it's not a joke, why?"

"I don't understand what you find so fascinating about dark magic."

"It requires a level of skill and focus that the fluff they teach here doesn't even come close to," he replied defensively. "There are a lot of very useful spells they classify as 'Dark Arts', when in actuality they're applicable to daily life for most people." Even if it was basically an argument, it felt good to be talking to Lily again.

"Like what?"

"Like—well, I don't know offhand, but it's not like everyone else isn't using dark magic. They just don't call it that."

Lily gave a slight frown and set her cauldron on the table. "I think you're wrong." She helped herself to supplies heaped on a neighboring table.

"What a surprise," Severus sneered. "I'm wrong. I'll bet _Potter_ is always right." He spat the name out viciously.

"Don't talk about James," she hissed.

"Why not? You're only with him because he's popular and _pretty_. Not like poor, ugly Severus!"

"That's not why!" she retorted, her cheeks turning pink against her red hair. "He's good to me, he cares about me."

Forgetting his sarcasm and guarded façade, Severus burst out, "He cares about you? Who's loved you since we were little kids? Not that arrogant prick!"

"At least he never called me a mudblood!" she shouted back.

"Why can't you forgive me for that? I've begged you! If it wasn't for that bastard torturing me, I never would've said it!"

"I don't have to listen to this." Lily turned her back and started measuring out an ingredient for her potion.

Severus glared at her for a few moments before deciding whether it was worth the bother to fight. He decided it was; some things simply need to be said. "You don't have to do anything, do you? Whatever Lily wants, Lily gets, and if anybody says something she doesn't like, to hell with them!"

Refusing to look at him, she muttered, "You don't say something like that without meaning it."

He shook his head sadly. "You know so little about life, Lily. People say and do so many things they don't want to or mean for reasons I guess you can't comprehend—pain, fear, humiliation, desperation. When you have a perfect life, it's easy to judge others." With a sigh he shoved the last of his necessities into a bag and picked up his book. "It's pointless to talk to you because you only see what you want to see." He started for the door.

"I could forgive your remark, Severus, if it weren't backed up by actions."

He halted. "Meaning?"

"You run with those Death Eaters who hate me, hate all 'mudbloods'. What should I think about that?"

Severus turned just far enough to see her face, her challenging expression. She didn't want dialogue, she wanted to prove herself right. So be it. "They're the only ones who don't torment me, Lily. They treat me as a friend, as a human being. If you ever got lonely enough, maybe you could understand that."

He walked out without looking back.


	8. Chapter 8

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eight

"Regulus, hold on—and grab your trunk."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Sirius?" asked his brother dubiously. "I'd like to actually make it home for the Easter holiday."

The two stood on the platform after disembarking from the Hogwarts train, where parents were greeting their children and, in most cases, Disapparating with them. Sirius had made it a point to tell their parents that he and Regulus would need no assistance, something his brother contested at the moment.

"I've Apparated a hundred times," Sirius insisted.

"You've never done it with a side along and luggage!" Regulus countered.

"Trust me. Now hold on."

Regulus grabbed hold of his trunk, which he now regretted bringing home; it wasn't like he'd need much while he was there. With his other hand he hugged Sirius around the waist, to the older boy's amusement. Sirius winked at his brother, and they Disapparated. The next thing they knew, they were outside Grimmauld Place.

"Told you," Sirius gloated.

Regulus let out a relieved breath and released his grip on Sirius. "I can't wait till next year when I learn to Apparate. Help me carry my trunk."

Together they lugged it across the street and up the stairs. Inside, they let it crash to the floor. Kreacher gave a scowl as he padded over.

"Is this Master Sirius' baggage?" he squeaked, intending to spit on it when no one was around.

"No, it's mine, Kreacher. Would you mind taking it to my room?"

"Not at all, Master Regulus," the elf chirped, cheerfully packing it onto his shoulder in the most unwieldy fashion, for it was larger than he was. He happily trotted up the narrow staircase, humming to himself.

"Why does he like you and not me?" Sirius asked.

"Maybe because he knows _you_ don't like _him_," said Regulus. "You're never nice to him."

"Or maybe because mum and dad disapprove of me, so he imitates them," Sirius muttered.

Regulus shrugged. "I wonder where they are. Mum? Are you home?"

Sirius had already started up the stairs. "Are you still hanging around with those Death Eater jerks at school?"

"What if I am?" Regulus retorted, following his brother. "At least mum and dad approve of my friends, and my loyalty to our bloodline."

"They're bad news, that's what! I don't care what anybody else says, you're my brother and I don't like the idea of you getting mixed up with them. As for the pureblood crap, one person's blood is the same as another." He turned around at the top of the stairs to see Regulus making a face at him. "Don't give me that! Did I ever tell you something that wasn't true?"

Regulus shrugged again as he pushed his way past. "I don't know, Sirius, but we have to live here, and I don't want them mad at me."

A rueful grin escaped from Sirius. That had been his problem all along, he didn't really care if his parents were upset with him or if they hated his ideas. "One day you'll see I'm right. Mark my words."

He went into his room, which had apparently not been cleaned in his absence. Thick dust settled over the floor and furniture. The bed hadn't even been made since he'd been home at Christmas. He yanked the bedclothes into a semblance of straight and lay down, crossing his ankles, propping his head on his hands.

"Sirius, speaking of hanging with the wrong crowd, why are you suddenly friends with Filch?" Regulus stuck his head inside to look at his brother. "Some of the guys, including our prefect, said they saw you walking the halls with him."

Sirius snorted, then burst out laughing. "I wasn't 'hanging around' with him, I was doing detention. Self-imposed detention, I might add."

"Self-imp—what is that supposed to mean? Who gives detention to _themselves_?"

Waving a hand for the boy to come in, he gestured for him to sit on the chair beside the desk buried under stacks of books, papers, and photos. "You know Snivellus, right?"

An odd look greeted him. "You mean Severus?" said Regulus.

"Yeah. Well, I had what I thought was a clever idea to get back at him for being a nosy creep—"

"You're always picking on him!"

"Would you let me finish? I pulled a prank that could've got him killed. At the time it seemed funny, until Dumbledore dressed me down royally for it. I never thought I'd ever see him so mad and disappointed. He basically told me I was a piece of shit and to get out of his office."

Eyes popping, mouth hanging open, Regulus stared at the other boy. "No way! Dumbledore's not like that."

"He didn't use those _words_," Sirius amended. "But that's what it meant. I felt so bad, kind of guilty. I thought maybe punishing myself by doing detention for a few weeks with Filch might help."

"Did it?"

"I don't know. I'm still not convinced the joke would've turned out so bad, and Snivellus deserved it anyway for always sneaking around spying on us. Dumbledore's still mad at me, though, so I guess it didn't help."

Regulus shook his head and stood up. "Sometimes you can be such a prat, Sirius. You said this 'prank' could've killed Severus, yet he_ deserved_ it. Did he ever try to murder you? No, he didn't, because if he had, you'd be dead!"

"This is why I don't talk to you about school," Sirius remarked. "You Slytherin gits all stick together."

When his brother tossed a book at his head, he blocked it, knocking it to the floor, and laughed. Regulus took out his wand as if to do some damage, then paused, glancing around the room.

"I was going to tornado your room, but it looks like somebody already did," he sniped. With a flick of the wand he blew out the lights in the room and strode off.

Sirius left them off. He felt like napping anyway.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Mistress Black, good Master Regulus comes home from Hogwarts," Kreacher said excitedly to the woman as she entered the home. He almost danced in his joy, then suddenly went limp and cross. "Master Sirius comes back, too."

"Thank you, Kreacher. Is supper ready?"

"Yes, Mistress." He began to toddle off to the kitchen before turning to her with a grave expression on his face. "Kreacher hears bad things, Mistress. Bad doings at Hogwarts."

"What's happened?" she asked, growing concerned.

"Master Sirius making terrible trouble. Trying to kill a boy."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Sirius awoke from his nap to the sound of a loud bang, as a door crashing against a wall. Since he hadn't shut his door, he could only surmise the noise came from his mother either pitching something onto the floor or perhaps stomping loudly. The lights were on again, and she stood in the doorway looking angrier than usual.

"Get out of that bed!" she snapped.

Sirius sat up. "Hello, mum. Thank you for your warm welcome home."

Mrs. Black stomped across the room to smack him on the cheek. "Don't get mouthy with me! I heard about what you did at school, trying to murder another student!"

The blood drained from the boy's face. How could Regulus tattle on him like that? They had their differences, but they'd always been friends, they'd always covered each other's butts. The betrayal cut deep inside.

"I wasn't trying to kill him, it was a joke."

"I'll bet _he_ didn't think so. He wasn't even a mudblood, was he?"

"What difference does that make?" Sirius exclaimed.

"Because I could understand hating that filth enough to slaughter them!" she screeched. "But no, my son has to attack decent people!"

"He's a halfblood, for your information!" Sirius shouted. "Don't they count almost as low as mudbloods on your insane, snooty scale?"

Mrs. Black slapped him again, much harder than before, then took him by the hair to shake him. In a flash he was on his feet and his wand was in his hand, pointing at his mother, who gasped and moved back. A moment later, his wand flew out of his grasp to be caught by his father, whose own wand shot out a hex that threw him backward against the wall; he slid down onto the bed holding his stomach. Another spell caused him to arch his back and howl in agony. A third slammed his head into the wall with a jarring 'crack'. Mr. Black walked up to the bed and peered down at his son.

In a perfectly even, undisturbed voice he promised, "If you ever raise a wand to your mother or me again, I'll kill you."

So saying, he lifted his fist and began to whale on the boy over and over, ignoring the pleas for mercy. When Sirius toppled onto the floor, he kicked him until his leg was exhausted. He left his son lying where he fell and took his wife's elbow. Together they proceeded downstairs for supper.

By the time Sirius regained consciousness, it was dark outside and the house was quiet. With evident difficulty he rolled over and picked up the wand cast on the floor beside him, then stumbled out of his room and down the stairs, clutching the rail and trying valiantly to hold back the moans of pain. As soon as he was outside, he Disapparated. He Apparated outside James Potter's house and rang the bell.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, you said you'd help," his sister wheedled as she plopped into his lap on the sofa.

He pushed her head aside so he could continue watching television. "I didn't say I'd do it _today_."

Their brother pounced on him from the other side. "Pleeeeease?"

"Why don't you have mum help you?" He pressed the button to increase the volume, hoping to tune them out.

"Mum always does it. We want you," Justina pouted.

Simultaneously pleased to be wanted and annoyed at being disturbed on his second day home, Severus heaved a gigantic sigh to let them see he wasn't completely happy with the turn of events. Even so, he switched off the television and got up. With one child grasping each hand, they pulled him into the kitchen where the family cauldron sat over a tiny flame. Inside, a congealed red mess bubbled away, splashing willy-nilly on the countertop.

"What is _this_?" Severus exclaimed. He yanked the cauldron away from the flame with a most disgusted look on his face.

"Love potion," Julius smiled. "See, it's red."

"You two would fit in wonderfully with those troll-brained oafs I call classmates," Severus answered dryly, rolling his eyes.

The twins, although fairly certain they were being insulted, smiled broadly.

"What do you need a love potion for?" continued Severus. "You're_ eight_."

"For mum and dad," Justina grinned.

Severus' brows dipped down into a scowl. He couldn't blame the twins for wishing their parents were more loving to one another, he'd felt the same at their age…he still felt the same. Nevertheless, emotions weren't something to be trifled with, especially by two eight-year-olds not even in wizarding school yet! They had no idea how horribly wrong a potion like this could go, or the devastating, life-changing effects of incorrect usage.

"If mum wanted a love potion, she'd make one," he said simply. "How about a sleeping draught?"

"Ooh!" squealed Justina. "We could give it to dad when he's in a bad mood!"

"Yeah!" agreed Julius, eager eyed.

"Now listen," said Severus sternly. "Potions aren't toys, you can't use them however and whenever you want. If you give too much, you could make someone really sick, or worse. Mum will tell you if you can use it. Understand?"

They nodded together, only slightly less enthusiastic.

"Bring me these ingredients." He began to call out a list of things while he scrubbed the muck from the cauldron. When everything was assembled on the counter and the cauldron clean, he set it in front of the children. "Tina, put in one finger length of mandrake root. How do we prepare it?"

"Crushed on one side only, not chopped," she recited. With the flat of a knife she pressed down hard on the root until it split open, oozing its juices. She flipped it into the cauldron.

"Julius, three milliliters of distilled wolfsbane."

The boy dutifully measured the liquid, bending down and squinting as he droppered it into the vessel.

"Tina, half a liter of water—"

"Chilled with ice for exactly one minute!" she interrupted, beaming.

"That's right," he agreed, unable to hold back a proud smile.

"Julius, a touch of newt. What kind?"

"Um…whole?"

Severus snorted derisively.

"Minced?" Julius tried again. With a nod from his brother, he began to cut up the newt, then proceeded to attempt to add it.

Severus grabbed his hand and jerked it away from the cauldron. "I said a_ touch_, not a _pinch_! What are you trying to do, kill us all?"

"Sorry." Julius painstakingly scaled back minute amounts until he detected a note of approval from his brother, then put it into the cauldron, which they then set over the fire.

"Time it—no more than thirteen minutes, stirring every thirty seconds in alternating clockwise and counterclockwise rotations."

By the third stir, which very nearly went in the wrong direction save a vocal admonition on his part, Severus could endure it no longer. He snatched the spoon from his sister. "For heaven's sake, I'll do it myself! Prepare the rest of the ingredients."

"Goodness, Severus, you have no patience at all," said Eileen, wandering in to observe what they were doing. "Sleeping draught?"

"Yes. I wouldn't need patience if they did it right," he complained.

"It's a good thing you're not a teacher."

"Believe me, mum, that's the last thing I'd ever want to be. I'd kill myself if I had to deal with a bunch of talentless nitwits on a daily basis."

All at once Justina flung her herbs on the floor and ran from the room crying. Julius kicked him in the shin before following his sister out.

"Ow! What the—what's _their_ problem?" He stirred the potion counterclockwise.

"Maybe they don't like being called talentless nitwits," his mother answered, frowning. "And I don't appreciate you speaking to them that way."

Severus made a clucking noise with his tongue. "I didn't mean _them_, I meant students in general." Stir clockwise.

"Give me that!" Eileen wrested the spoon from his hand. "Go apologize."

"It's not my fault they can't follow directions." He made a grab for the spoon. "Mum, you'll ruin it!"

Eileen shoved the spoon into the cauldron and stirred vigorously until it was frothy. "Too late. Now go apologize!"

Sulking and muttering to himself, he stormed into their shared bedroom where the twins sat on their beds. Julius threw a shoe at him, narrowly missing his head; Justina sniffed and turned her back on him.

"Why're you acting like brats?" Severus grumped.

"Cuz you're a mean arsehole," Julius retorted.

Severus charged over to corner the boy, holding him down with one hand while he slapped his face repeatedly with the other, sending Julius into a fit of crying and kicking.

"Don't you ever talk like that to me!" Severus bellowed.

"Leave him alone!" Justina howled as she pounded ineffectually at his ribs.

His hand flew out to grab her by the hair, causing her to shriek. All at once, like an appalling wave, it hit him what he was doing, and he let her go with a horrified gasp. He stepped slowly backward away from his brother, his eyes like saucers, his mouth trying to find the words to say. The two children gaped back at him.

"I'm so sorry," he said weakly. He'd backed up into his bed, where he sat down heavily as if his legs bones had disappeared. "I'm sorry."

The twins didn't move; they seemed frozen, immobilized by the attack. Severus had never struck either one of them, ever.

"Please say something," Severus uttered.

Justina, clinging to Julius, wiped her nose on her sleeve, but the tears on her cheeks were still fresh. "Don't you love us anymore, Severus?"

"Yes! Of course I do…" His voice caught in his throat.

Julius gave him a wary look. "No, you don't."

"I do, Julius. I love you and Tina more than anything."

"Then why did you do it?" the boy demanded. The red handmarks on his face made Severus cringe in shame.

"I was mad, I didn't mean it," he whispered, very aware of how pathetic that sounded. How many times had their father apologized in the same way after losing control? "I swear I'll never do it again." Hesitantly he held out his arms, desperately hoping they would forgive him, even if he couldn't forgive himself. Justina ran across the room to jump into his arms and be enfolded there, rocked back and forth as hot tears slid down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, baby."

Seeing his twin receiving all Severus' attention, Julius charged over for his share. Severus pressed the two of them to his heart and kissed their heads. He'd scald the skin off his own body before he'd ever hurt them again. He would not be his father; he refused to become his father!

"Are you crying, Severus?" asked Julius.

"No, silly. My heart's leaking," he murmured back.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Narcissa, what's bothering you? You barely spoke at dinner," said Lucius.

She continued brushing her hair, staring off into space, then finally answered, "Sirius ran away from home. My mother told me."

"Good, it's about time," Lucius replied in earnest.

"Lucius, he's my cousin!"

"He's a pain in the ass blood traitor, Narcissa. Good riddance to him." He shucked his robes to put on his sleeping robes, unaware of the evil looks being thrown his way. When he turned around, he was honestly shocked to see his wife glaring at him. "What?"

"He may be a blood traitor, but unlike everyone else, I don't hate him," she snapped. "He's been burned off the family tapestry as if he never existed, just like Andromeda. The family will expect me to act like he's dead."

"Is that so hard to do? You ignore your sister. When's the last time you even saw Sirius?"

"That's not the point, Lucius!" She resisted the urge to crack him on the head with her hairbrush. How could he be so thick? "Perhaps I shouldn't, but I hold some feelings for him. And for your information, I still see Andy from time to time."

Lucius came over to her vanity and crouched down beside her, his gray eyes projecting a hint of worry. "It would be best if you don't let your family know that."

"I'm not the one skilled in hiding my thoughts and emotions," she snarled bitterly. "Maybe you could give me some lessons."

"I don't hide them from you and you know it! I've kept my promise to be open with you." Lucius stood up and took her hand in his, his tone softening. "I don't mean to be callous, but if you let on how you feel, and especially if they find out you're in contact with Andromeda, you'll be the next one burned off the tapestry. Bellatrix has a bit of skill in Legilimency, she'd rat you out in a heartbeat if she suspected."

"What am I supposed to do? Hide from my family forever?" Narcissa wailed.

"No, love. Learn some Occlumency. That I _can_ teach you."

Narcissa stood up into his embrace. "You learned it from the dark lord." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Lord Voldemort. How she hated the name and everything associated with him, except Lucius, of course. She wanted nothing from him, ever, and here she was ready to accept a dark skill from this heinous man. Did she have a choice? Probably not. She trusted Lucius, she knew he'd only do what was best for her. She gazed into his beautiful eyes and nodded.


	9. Chapter 9

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Nine

When Lucius Apparated to the meadow outside the dilapidated farmhouse, he fully expected a repeat of the last time he'd been called here. He waited for others to start appearing, and when they didn't he began to worry. Had he come to the wrong place? No, that wasn't possible. So where was everyone? For lack of an answer, he made his way toward the falling apart structure. He didn't hear anything, no one talking, no screaming; that may or may not be a good sign.

The mask over his face felt hot, and his robes seemed heavy, almost wet from the humidity in the air. Only now, in the broad daylight, he saw a multitude of greenery—bushes, trees, even the grass beneath his feet. Very odd. Reluctantly he pushed open the door, which gave way with a loud creaking groan, and stepped inside. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw a figure in front of him.

Bellatrix, hands on hips, wearing her typical short skirt and tight top, sneered at him as he entered. "Took you long enough, blondie. Were you hoping we'd go play in the field with you?"

"Don't you ever go home?" he responded blandly, knowing it would suck the wind from her sails. At her sulky pout, he smiled beneath his mask.

"Don't you ever mind your own business?" she retorted.

Lucius waved his wand over his face, removing the mask. Blessed relief! Another wave removed his Death Eater robes. "Where is this place anyway? It's so warm for mid-April, and there's no snow or slush, so it can't be England."

"I believe it's called _Florida_," she said, enunciating the word precisely.

"We're in the States?" asked Lucius, taken by surprise. "How can that be? It didn't take all that long to get here."

Bella sneered again. "Do I look like a map?"

"No, you look like a two-bit hooker," he drawled, smirking. With her wand suddenly thrust in his face, he had a change of opinion. "I'm kidding, Bella!"

She leaned in very close to his face. "I don't think you're very funny." Her wand traced a path from his temple to his jaw, never leaving his skin. "So pretty. Wouldn't Cissy be heartbroken if you came home with that pretty face all messed up?"

Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed her away. "Get off me. The master called for me, where is he?"

Twisting her mouth into another pout at her spoiled amusement, she remarked, "You're no fun at all. Ever since I taught you to duel, you think you're a big wizard. I never should've taught you."

"You're about four years too late to cry over it now," he replied, flashing her one of his own sneers.

"You're still not nearly as skillful as I am. I could wipe the floor with you, you know!"

Not caring to bicker, Lucius nodded and said in all sincerity, "Honestly, Bella, I believe you could, but the master is going to be angry if I keep him waiting. Would you please take me to him?"

She sighed loudly and flounced out of the room with Lucius right behind her. She led him into what he imagined might have been a parlor or sitting room at one time. At the crumbling fireplace she stopped to push one of the bricks.

"Get in," she ordered. Without waiting for him to comply, she shoved him onto the hearth.

The whole structure seemed to fall at an incredible rate that made his stomach soar and his head dizzy. It landed with nothing more than a gentle bump, and he was in a huge cavern lit by numerous torches lining the walls, casting eerie shadows off the rock formations.

"My lord!" he called out as he stepped tentatively away from the fireplace. The ground beneath his feet felt soft, moist. A chill in the air made him wish he hadn't left his Death Eater robes up above in the farmhouse.

"Lucius," came Voldemort's soft voice, drawing out the 's'. "Where have you been?"

"Arguing with Bellatrix," Lucius answered. It wouldn't do to lie over something so trivial. He glanced around again, unable to see the dark lord.

"She's easily bored," the voice returned. "She longs for excitement, which perhaps I ought to grant her. There _have_ been Muggles prowling about."

Using Occlumency, Lucius carefully closed off the part of his mind that hoped this wasn't the reason for his summons. "Master, where are you?"

Voldemort materialized only inches from his face, prompting him to lurch backward in shock. He felt his face go red as the dark lord laughed at his surprise. His wildly beating heart began to calm as he knelt to kiss Voldemort's robe, then stood up.

"How did you do that? Were you _invisible_, my lord?"

"No, Malfoy. Even I cannot make myself invisible. I produced a small mirage to make you think all you saw was a cave. I was standing behind the image the whole time." His high cackle split the air again.

_You and Bella need to get out more often_, Lucius thought subversively. Apparently the seclusion wasn't doing either of them any favors. "You called for me, master."

"I have a task for you."

Lucius' heart sank. Oh, God, how he hated those words! Up to now these 'tasks' had primarily consisted of torturing people or being tortured himself—or both. "Yes, my lord?"

Voldemort was turning away. _Please don't reveal Muggles you've hidden here for me to torment_, Lucius begged silently. He would do it, of course, if ordered to; he'd learned from enduring repeated applications of the Cruciatus curse and other hideously painful spells that obedience was the best policy.

The dark lord stretched out his hand and a book flew to him from the inner recesses of the cave, then he swung back around to Lucius. "I wish for you to keep this article of mine safe until I'm in need of it."

Lucius' whole body relaxed so suddenly he almost stumbled. All he had to do was hold on to a book? "Anything, my lord. I'm truly honored you've chosen me." Strangely enough, he really did feel honored to be singled out in a good way.

Voldemort handed him the object. "This was a journal of mine from when I was at Hogwarts. As you can see, the pages have been wiped clean."

Lucius leafed through the diary, nodding. "Yes, I see."

"I would advise against trying to bring the words back." It was uttered almost as a threat.

"I wouldn't dream of it, master." Especially now that he'd been warned. The thing probably had a multitude of spells and charms on it, none of which he cared to have attached to himself.

"You have an enchanted safe at Malfoy Manor, haven't you?"

"Several, my lord."

"Stash this in one of them where no one will see it or have access to it. Is that clear?" His red eyes pierced the other man.

"Completely, sir. But master, if I may ask—what is so important about an old diary that no longer contains any words?" Immediately he regretted asking.

Voldemort took a step forward, wand raised. "Are you questioning me, Lucius?"

"No, master, not at all." He ducked his head and braced for the _crucio_. "Purely curiosity."

"We all know what curiosity killed, don't we?" Voldemort purred, sounding very nearly like the cat to which he alluded.

Lucius nodded. He wasn't sure it required an answer, and his mouth had already come dangerously close to landing him in trouble yet again. The dark lord motioned for him to move back, which he did until his feet were firmly on the hearth. Instantly he was rushing upward at a tremendous speed, then the fireplace stopped. A flick of his wand replaced his mask and robes.

"Leaving already?" Bellatrix whined. "We could ask the master if we can go Muggle hunting."

"As enticing as that sounds, I need to leave," Lucius drawled snidely, his sarcasm lost on her. "If you're bored, why don't you spend some time with Rodolphus? Better yet, invite him here. He could keep you company."

"Good idea," she said, brightening. "He likes Muggle hunts!"

"I meant—oh, never mind. I'll see you, Bella." He walked outside into the blinding sunshine, diary in hand, and Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Professor?" Severus edged into Slughorn's office. Not seeing the man, he headed for the fireplace.

"Yes, Severus," said the armchair as it unfolded into a man, startling the boy, who halted guiltily in the middle of the room. "What can I do for you?"

"May I use your fireplace? The one in the common room isn't hooked up to the floo network."

"Naturally it isn't. We can't have students coming and going whenever they please, or bringing in visitors," said the man, toddling over to peer at him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, sir, I don't think so. I got an owl from a friend, he asked me to come over. I think it's concerning a fertility potion I'm trying to make for his wife." Severus carefully avoided mentioning Lucius' name. After all, he doubted his friend wished everyone to know his business.

"Fertility potion, eh? That explains why certain of my rare herbs and supplies are missing."

"I intend to replace them," Severus answered hurriedly. "He's promised to pay for the supplies I use. Please, may I go?" An answer of 'no' would serve as no deterrent, merely a hindrance inasmuch as he'd have to hike to the edge of Hogwarts grounds and Apparate to the mansion from there.

"Alright, but don't come back too late. And don't worry about paying for the supplies. It sounds like it's for a good cause." The teacher seemed as if he intended to settle down in place again, then looked over at his clock. Half past eight. "I guess I'd better make the rounds, check on my Slytherins." The affection with which he said it gave Severus a warm feeling.

"Thank you, Professor. I'm certain I'll be back soon." Snape waited for the man to leave, stepped into the fireplace, and tossed his floo powder as he announced, "Malfoy Manor."

Although he'd not owled a reply, he had no doubt he'd get through the intense security enchantments at the manor, for Lucius had years ago added him to the short list of people able to come and go at will, while keeping out intruders. In fact, apart from direct family members, Severus wasn't entirely sure if anyone else besides himself had that honor.

He arrived in a deserted room; no, not deserted. A house elf scurried up to him, then ran from the room. Lucius was nowhere in sight, which he found unusual considering he'd _asked_ Severus to come. In the distance he heard the sound of music. While he waited he gazed around the room at the excessive finery, the expensive and ancient furniture, the portraits of generations gone, the vast majority of whom shared Lucius' pale blondness. Most glared back at him, while a few recognized him as Lucius' friend and smiled cordially.

Momentarily a voice behind him jolted him out of his dream world. "I take it you're here to see my son."

Severus spun around to face Abraxas Malfoy. He'd never formally met Lucius' father, though on occasion he'd seen him about the mansion. He found the man's stern presence intimidating. "Mr. Malfoy. Yes, sir, I am. Lucius owled me, asking me to come." He had a desire to keep on explaining to the emotionless form.

The man's eyes ranged up and down the skinny boy before him. From the worn condition of the clothing, he could be none other than the Snape boy. Lips pursed slightly, Abraxas searched for any resemblance to Eileen, and came up blank. True, the lad had black hair, but so did his father, if Lucius had told him correctly.

"You're in school robes; evidently Lucius neglected to mention we're holding his birthday party."

Abashed, Severus dropped his head. "I—I don't mean to intrude. If I could only speak to your son for a minute—"

"Nonsense." Abraxas casually waved his wand at the boy, transfiguring his clothing into expensive-looking dress robes. "The spell will only hold for a few hours, then you'll need to do it again. Come along."

Stealing awed glances down at his impeccable clothing, Severus trailed behind the man as the music got louder and was joined by voices talking and laughing. They ended up in the ballroom, a room large enough to hold two of Severus' entire house—and then some. Everywhere people were milling about. He caught sight of a platinum blond head far across the room, then it was gone.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll find him."

The man lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, as if it could be heard above the din; amazingly, an elf popped beside him. "Dobby, take this boy to my son."

Instantly Severus and the elf were standing in front of Lucius, who gave a smile—not the muted 'I'll pretend I'm interested' smile, or the world-weary lip-only smile, but a genuine grin splitting his handsome face.

"You came! Welcome, Severus!" He extended a hand.

Severus shook it. "You could've told me you were having a party."

"If I had, you wouldn't have come," Lucius said simply with a little half-shrug. "You're dressed appropriately. Very nice robes, by the way."

"Your father transfigured my school robes. I feel like bloody Cinderella." He was met with a blank stare. "It's a fairy tale—a Muggle fairy tale."

"Ah. I wouldn't know it."

"Happy birthday. I'm sorry I didn't bring a gift," said Severus.

Lucius made a little face and gestured around the room. "I have everything, Severus, I don't need a gift."

He made a cocking motion with his head toward the back of the room and began to lead the way, acknowledging people and making idle chatter to them as he went, never breaking stride. They continued down a luxurious hallway and ducked into a massive library, which was dark and quiet. Lucius strode to the French doors and threw them open as he waved Severus over to join him on the balcony, lit only by the soft light of the moon.

"It's good to get away from this 'small gathering', as my father puts it. I only know half the people here." He leaned on the railing, staring into the darkness of the back lawn where the glaring party lights didn't reach. "I hate parties. I spend all my time sucking up to people and trying to make more contacts. They're hardly fun as a party should be."

Severus came up beside him and leaned over, putting his elbows on the railing. The air felt so crisp and fresh compared to the heat of the packed ballroom. "I don't think I've ever been to a party before, unless you count the family getting together at my grandparents' house." He smiled ruefully to think Lucius must consider him such a bumpkin.

"I'd prefer that," Lucius responded softly. "I'm being a terrible host. Would you like something to drink—wine, firewhiskey?"

"No, thanks, I don't drink." He hesitated, remembering the glass he'd seen in Mr. Malfoy's hand earlier. "Does your father become…unruly when he has firewhiskey?"

"You mean abusive?" said Lucius, only realizing the implication when he saw scarlet flaming in Severus' cheeks. "No. I've never seen him drunk. He's very careful about his public face, and he only drinks socially."

"That's good," replied Snape quietly. He seemed captivated by the utter black of the yard, for he refused to turn from it.

Lucius studied his friend's mournful expression, lamenting his mention of abuse. Severus had told him of Mr. Snape's predilection for getting drunk, and subsequent bouts of brutality. It angered and worried him. "Severus, did something happen?"

At first there was no answer, which he took as a definitive answer of yes. Then Severus turned his head to look at him with pain in his black eyes.

"I hit my brother," he burst out, as if the words need to escape. "I've never done that before."

"So?" Lucius shrugged, feeling relieved. "My brother used to hit me all the time when my father wasn't around. It's normal, don't fret about it."

"It's not normal for me. I lost control against people I love, Lucius, and I can't even blame it on drinking. What's to stop it from happening again?"

The utter desolation and fear shining in his eyes gave Lucius a sad twinge. Knowing what he did of what went on in the Snape household, he fully understood his friend's despair at becoming like the man he feared. "You're better than that, Severus. For one thing—the most important thing—you don't want to do it again. You probably have the strongest will of anybody I know, and if you decide to control yourself, no one will be able to move you."

"I think you give me too much credit."

"I don't. I have the utmost faith in you. If I were you, I'd have killed those blasted Marauders years ago, yet you manage to coexist with them. You study and practice spells most people find hideously difficult, but you do it because you want the skill, because you have the _self-control_ to do it. And you have the patience of a saint in making potions."

This drew a small smile from the boy.

"Which brings me to the reason I dragged you into this hellfest tonight. I said I don't need a gift, but what I do need is a baby to make my wife happy… and myself, I admit. Any luck on that potion?" His eyebrows raised hopefully.

"No, sorry. My last potion killed my lab rat."

"That's probably not a good sign," observed Lucius.

"I think that's safe to assume," Severus answered dryly.

"So, how long do you anticipate? Another few months?"

Severus looked over at him, lip automatically curling. "Inventing potions isn't as easy as making a known one, as my dead rat can attest. I could get lucky and find one in a month, or spend fruitless years trying. I just don't know."

Rolling his eyes in mock impatience, Lucius remarked, "How hard can it be?"

"Aside from drawing up a new formula each time, collecting the ingredients, preparing them, and spending a month or more brewing it, I have to then test it for a few months on an animal I've made sterile to see if it's viable. It's complicated and time-consuming, as I recall telling you once before." Severus stopped to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What was that?"

Grinding his teeth and glowering ferociously, Severus began, "I _said_—"

Lucius broke into a chuckle and slapped him on the back. "I heard you! You have no sense of humor."

_If you'd been teased all your life, I doubt you would, either_, seethed Snape.

"Here, before I forget." Lucius drew a bag the size of his fist from an inner pocket of his robes and handed it to Severus. "I must apologize for not paying you in a timely manner. This is to cover the last three months. I've opened a tab at all the potions supply shops, so you can get whatever you need. This should pay for anything you already spent, as well as for your time and effort."

Severus shoved the bag back at him, but Lucius refused to accept it. "You're my friend, I can't take your money."

"I'd pay a stranger, why shouldn't I pay _you_ when you're ten times better?" demanded Lucius.

"I don't know about _ten_ times," Severus replied, trying not to smile at the compliment.

"Severus, I insist. You're performing a service, I owe you for it. Malfoys do not evade their debts." He glanced back dolefully at the library door. "I have to get back to the party. You're welcome to join us."

"I really ought to go back to school."

Lucius nodded. "I do appreciate what you're doing for us. I'm honestly not trying to pressure you, I simply…well, you know."

"It's alright. I'm sure it's very frustrating to wait." Holding up the bag of coins, he nodded back. "Thank you."

"It's not a gift, you earned it. Every month from here on out I'll be paying, and I don't want to argue with you every time, so just take it and shut up." Lucius smirked, his eyes twinkling. "Hmm, threatening my guests. I really _have_ become a terrible host, haven't I? Goodnight, Severus. And good luck."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

For weeks since returning from Easter holiday, Regulus had been avoiding his brother, a filthy mudblood-loving blood traitor with the gall to run away from home because he didn't like their parents' ideas. The shame on the family would have been overwhelming to him, had his friends not been supportive. They didn't blame him for what the Gryffindork Muggle lover did; in fact, the sixth and seventh year Death Eater crowd welcomed him with open arms. He didn't need Sirius.

So why should it bother him to see the creep sauntering his way in the Great Hall? All he had to do was move over to the Slytherin tables and he'd be free of the contaminating influence. Instead, he scowled and stood his ground.

"You're hard to get alone, Regulus," said Sirius in a deep, menacing tone. "Not too surprising, I guess, seeing as you're a backstabbing little ponce."

"Tough words from a blood traitor bastard," retorted Regulus.

Sirius grabbed his brother's face in one hand and shoved him hard backward. The boy tripped and fell, cracking the back of his head on a Ravenclaw bench on his way down. He lay motionless. Aghast, Sirius leaped forward to kneel beside him in an attempt to rouse him; the next thing he felt was a very painful spell hitting the side of his skull. He crumbled beside his brother.

The Slytherin responsible for the hex made haste to notify Professor Slughorn, who brought along Madame Pomfrey to examine the boys. She summarily had them whisked to the infirmary, where they awoke some time later in adjoining beds, both with tremendous headaches.

Sirius groaned and glanced over at Regulus. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"Nothing, moron! You're the one who pushed me down and probably gave me a concussion."

Oh, yes, he did remember doing that. Then who hexed him? "I didn't mean to knock you out," he conceded gruffly.

"Yeah, I know," said Regulus.

All at once Sirius blurted, "Why did you tell mum what I did to Snivellus? I told you that in confidence!"

Crinkling his brow in slight confusion, Regulus replied, "I _didn't_ tell her, Kreacher did. He was obviously skulking outside the door when we were talking."

"But I thought…" Well, that changed things. Regulus wasn't the untrustworthy tattle-taling shit he'd believed him to be after all.

"Is that why you ran away from home to live with wizard scum—because you were mad at me?" Regulus exclaimed.

Sirius sat up, his aching head feeling woozy. "I ran away because dad beat the living hell out of me! He half-killed me. I'm not putting up with that crap!"

His brother's face lost its hard edge and he struggled into a seated position as well. "Nobody told me that."

"Of course they didn't, I'm the evil seed in their minds. They were glad to be rid of me."

Regulus didn't think it prudent to address that issue. For all he could tell of his parents' reaction, they were glad. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sirius nodded. "The Potters brought in a medi-witch. Look, Reg, we're probably not gonna have much chance to talk later, so I have to say this now. I wish you wouldn't hang with those Death Eaters. Voldemort isn't somebody to play around with, he's very dangerous."

For a moment, silence was his answer. Then, guardedly, the younger boy responded, "I'm not gonna get hurt or anything."

"I know I can't stop you from doing whatever you want to do, but…I worry about you. You're my little brother."

Madame Pomfrey, hearing their voices, hurried over. "Boys, you should rest, not talk. You both took pretty good knocks to the head. Here, drink this." She handed them each a small glass of purple liquid.

The brothers exchanged silent, understanding glances as they raised the tiny cups in a kind of salute and swallowed the medicine.


	10. Chapter 10

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Ten

An owl outside the window first thing in the morning was rarely a good omen; this one was no exception. Beginning before dawn, it pecked on Lucius' bedroom window glass until, weary of hearing it and unable to go back to sleep, he staggered over to fling open the window. He'd intended to throttle the bird, but seeing the note attached to its leg, he removed it and unrolled a long parchment to read the following:

_Dear Lucius,_

_I'm sorry to send this so early, I hope the owl doesn't wake you._

"Too bloody late for that," Lucius snarled.

"What's that honey? Are you _swearing_?" Narcissa yawned at him.

"No, dear. Well, maybe a little." He had to squint in the vague light in order to read the rest.

_I've been thinking about why the potions aren't working._

_There are too many ingredients, they're too broad in trying_

_to cover all bases at once, and in doing so become watered_

_down and ineffective. Perhaps some ingredients even cancel_

_out other ones. At any rate, I'll need the information from_

_your medi-witch to determine which course I should pursue._

_Please ask her if:_

_1)Narcissa is ovulating_

_2)Narcissa's eggs are viable_

_3)Narcissa's uterus is inhospitable to the ovum or sperm_

_4)Narcissa's eggs are rejecting your sperm_

_5)the egg is becoming fertilized but failing to attach to the uterine wall_

_Any information you can provide is vital to my research._

Lucius flushed at the thought of discussing his sperm, his wife's ovum, or Narcissa's intimate body in any way, shape or form with the 'medi-witch', a.k.a. his father. Abraxas had only examined Narcissa under duress, it was highly unlikely he'd consent to do so again. Perhaps now would be a good time to recommend she see someone else.

_My latest potions have been failures. I beg your patience _

_in hopes my new elixir will bear fruit of the Malfoy sort._

_Your friend, Severus_

The moment he'd finished reading the letter and started to turn around, he felt it plucked from his fingers by his wife.

"What have we here?" she teased. "An early morning love letter from an admirer?"

"Narcissa, don't—"

Lucius snatched for the parchment but she whirled away, more determined than ever to read it. He chased her across the room, with her squealing in alarm, right into the bathroom, where she slammed the door in his face.

"Honey… oh, shit!" he muttered, wandering over to plop on the bed to wait.

A few minutes later, Narcissa emerged from the bathroom wearing a distinct air of indignation. She tossed the parchment in his face. "So, you and Severus have a little agreement that concerns me, yet you don't see fit to even mention it. Oh, wait, maybe you did bring it up." She paused for a moment, looking up as she scrunched her face as if deep in thought. "Nope! You didn't."

"Honey, I'm sorry. Come here." He took her hand and guided her down beside him. She deliberately scooted over to leave a space between them. "I asked Severus to invent a new potion. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to get your hopes up. As you can see, so far he's had no luck."

"Lucius, what were you planning to do when he gets it right? Slip the potion into my food?"

"Of course not." Lucius moved closer to her, his arm snaking around her waist, his other hand massaging her thigh. "I just wanted to spare your feelings. It's been very disappointing for me, I didn't want you to feel the same."

Narcissa leaned her head over onto his chest. "You stupid, stupid man. I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a baby. We're in this together."

Lucius stroked her hair as he held her to him. They were in this together. He didn't have to sneak around behind her back anymore. He was glad… until she spoke again, in a devilish tone.

"The medi-witch is going to love this, Lucius, won't SHE? Why, we can ask HER at breakfast if—"

"Stop it," he chuckled. "Severus didn't know my father examined you. It's probably for the best if you see a medi-witch anyway. Father is such a prude. I swear, I don't know how he managed to have three children of his own."

"You don't?" smiled his wife. In her most seductive manner, she knelt up and straddled his legs, pressing her chest to his face and giggling. "Let me show you."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Home for the summer, the last summer before his final year at Hogwarts. It should be a happy, carefree time, unless you were Severus Snape, in which case it was tantamount to a three-month stint in Azkaban. Okay, not Azkaban, he reckoned, that was pretty harsh. More like the local jailhouse a few blocks over…or was school more like the jail and—

"Faster, Severus!" yelped Justina as her older brother mindlessly pushed his siblings on the twirl-around at the Muggle school around the corner from their house, trying to forget how much he hated home. Not the kids, just home.

He'd only come from Hogwarts three days ago, and already tension had mounted to volcanic proportions. So far no eruptions, but it was only a matter of time. With his mother working evenings as she did every summer, he was left in his father's company to watch the children. A volatile mix, to be sure, especially if he didn't have supper ready when the man got home from work—which was within the hour, he gulped, looking at his watch.

"Come on, time to go," he ordered.

"Oooh," the twins whined together, though they obediently hopped down and started to follow him.

Standing inside the gate, beside his house, was a bloke Severus had seen around the neighborhood several times in the past three days. He wasn't particularly distinguishable from most of the men thereabouts: unkempt hair, growth of whiskers, shady in every way, yet the man's presence bothered him; no, it unnerved him. He didn't belong here, not in the yard. Such blatant trespass might get his skull cracked a few houses over, and he looked the sort to know that.

"You want something?" asked Severus coolly. He unlocked the door and hustled the children inside, then closed the door again.

"Yeah, yer ol' man owes me money," he answered.

"I don't know anything about that."

"Maybe I can wait inside for 'im."

Severus sneered through a throaty laugh in the way he'd learned over the years to feign confidence. "You're not coming in my house."

The man stepped closer and Severus automatically reached for his wand which, of course, wasn't there, he'd given it to his father as he was always compelled to do.

"Don't ya trust me, boy?"

"I don't even know you, why would I trust you?" He opened the door, keeping his back to the house, and slipped inside, heart pounding.

A second later, before he could fully shut the door, the flat of the man's foot collided resoundingly against the wood, knocking the youth backward. In a flash the intruder was inside. A wicked roundhouse to the jaw sent Severus sprawling onto the couch.

"If I can't get the money, I'll just take the girl," the man leered, making a grab for Justina.

Severus leaped up to throw himself at the man, who pounced on him, his weight driving the skinny boy to the floor where he punched the boy over and over while the children shouted and beat at him. When he made to sweep them away, Severus wriggled from beneath him and kicked him in the chest.

"Get in the bedroom!" Severus hollered to the twins, kicking at the man again.

Staggered, the fellow toppled against the fireplace, where his hand lit on the poker. Grasping it with practiced firmness, he swung it hard at the boy, striking him in the head and opening a long gash. A second blow connected solidly and dropped Severus to the ground again. Then, standing over the bleeding youth, he grinned maliciously and stabbed the fireplace poker down with all his might right into Severus' abdomen.

Time seemed to stand still for the boy writhing on the floor. He felt no pain, he felt only fear. This evil bloke would take his sister, he'd do foul things to her. He must get up, he must stop it! But he couldn't. He was held down by a piece of metal being twisted in his guts by a laughing maniac. In despair, he sensed a pressure building rapidly in his head as he struggled to move. His heart seemed to race along with his mind, his panic building at an alarming rate until he was certain his head would burst. _Must stop him. Must STOP HIM!_

All at once, every window in the living room and kitchen exploded outward; the television screen shattered. The intruder was thrown back by an immense force that crushed his chest like an aluminum can and tossed him across the room. He landed propped against the wall in a macabre pose, eyes wide open, head lolling, blood drooling from his mouth. From Severus' position on the floor, he gazed weakly over at the corpse with no feeling or reaction.

Now Severus heard the children; they'd come out of their room, they were hysterical at seeing a dead man in their living room. Wait, they were looking at him, their _brother_, and sobbing and screaming. He glanced at the metal protruding from his body. He could see how that might frighten the poor kids. Come to think of it, he should be afraid, shouldn't he? He touched his body where the poker was sticking in him and drew his hands away covered with blood. Yep, folks, that was a bad sign indeed.

"Tina, Julius," he croaked.

The twins knelt beside him with tears running down their faces and sobs choking any attempt at speech.

"Shut the door…lock it. Go to...the bedroom." He didn't want them sitting here staring at that dead bastard, after all.

"Nooo!" they wailed together.

"Listen," Severus whispered. "I need…help. Put me…in the…fireplace."

Weeping loudly, they nevertheless each grabbed an arm and dragged the older boy into the fireplace, laying him at an awkward angle.

"Floo powder."

Julius shoved the powder next to his hand. Severus took as much as his limp hand would hold and released it onto his own body as he murmured as loudly as he could, "Malfoy… Manor."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa was visiting Regulus, which normally wouldn't be considered unusual, except for the fact that she'd never come over merely to visit her fifteen-year-old cousin before. To cloak her purpose, she'd spent a good amount of time sympathizing with her aunt and uncle over their hopelessly lost boy who'd defected to the traitors' side. They'd had a lot to say, none of it good, and if this was what Sirius had been putting up with for years, she honestly couldn't blame him for leaving. Nonetheless, she'd nodded along with them as they cursed the day of Sirius' birth and every event they could think of thereafter.

"Do you mind if I go speak to Regulus?" Narcissa asked sweetly.

"Oh, please do," Mrs. Black commented. "For some reason he was attached to that _other one_. He's been moping around in his room; some decent conversation with a loyal Black might do him good."

Narcissa smiled and headed up the staircase. She wasn't sure which room it was, but assuming her cousin was in there, it shouldn't be hard to find.

"Regulus, it's Narcissa," she called out, not really expecting an answer.

The boy poked his head out from the second door down. "Hey, Cissy. What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you."

"Why?"

She looked all around for signs of that stealthy house elf. "Can I come in your room?"

"Sure." He waited by the door for her to enter, then came in after her.

Unlike Sirius' jumbled mess of a bedroom, Regulus kept his things in neat order, allowing him to offer his cousin a chair rather than the bed to sit on. She gave a nod of thanks, took out her wand, and shut the door with a spell. Next she threw a bubble of silence charm around the room.

"What'd you do that for?" asked Regulus. He sat down on his bed.

"House elves have big ears," she said.

"Well, yeah, and big noses, too, but—oh, I get it!" He laughed at his own thickness.

"Reg, I know you and Sirius used to be pretty close. Tell me the truth: do you still see him?"

The lad eyed her warily. His parents had probably sent Cissy up to make sure he wasn't following Sirius' insane path, which he wasn't, and he resented the spying. Just because he talked to his brother didn't make him _become_ Sirius. He didn't like lying, but what was his alternative? "Um, no. I saw him at school a few times—he gave me a concussion."

"Yes, I heard about that," she acknowledged. Her aunt and uncle had gone on at length about how dangerous that 'damned boy' was, and how he could have killed poor Regulus, the only loyal one, and he should have been expelled from the school, but what could you expect from an institution that accepted mudbloods?

"Are you sure you haven't seen him since school let out?"

"I said no, Cissy!"

Regulus was lying. Ever since he'd been a tyke she'd been able to spot when he was lying, unlike Sirius who could make up a huge whopper with a straight face and get away with it. But how to call him on it? She was loath to admit any feelings for Sirius without knowing where Regulus stood, as it could land her in hot water with the whole Black clan. The idea of being burned off the tapestry held no appeal for her.

"Cissy, what do you really want? Are my parents testing me?" he growled, rather uncharacteristically. "I'm not a blood traitor, I believe in pureblood superiority. You can tell them that." He lay down and turned to face the wall. For good measure, to show his displeasure, he wrenched off his shoes one at a time and pitched them in her direction. Without looking, accuracy was pretty much only an unanticipated stroke of luck.

Narcissa dodged the shoes and resisted the temptation to fling them back at him. She was trying to get on his _good_ side. "I'm no blood traitor, either. I simply thought you'd still love your brother. I still love Andromeda." This was a huge risk, mentioning Andy.

Ever so slowly Regulus rolled over and sat up, still not quite sure whether to trust her. "I never said I don't love Sirius, but he's a bad influence. Everyone thinks so."

"What do you think?"

"I think he's a bad influence," he repeated levelly. His fingers clenched and unclenched the bedclothes. "Why do you care what I think? Why do you care one diddly-damn about Sirius?"

"Because he's my cousin, the same as you. Except he's a massive pain in the rear," she added with a grin.

Regulus grinned, too. "Yeah, he is that."

Narcissa stood up to go. She wasn't going to get any information this way, that was certain. She could leave him something to think about. "If you happen to see him, maybe you could mention that Cissy doesn't hate him."

"Why would I be seeing him?" challenged the lad.

"Paths cross," she said, opening the door and disarming the silencing charm. "I'll see you, Reg. Don't be a stranger at the mansion."

"Yeah, later." Troubled, he lay down once more. He wondered if Sirius would know what to make of this conversation the next time they met.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Unconscious and twisted in a grotesque manner around a fireplace poker, Severus turned up at Malfoy Manor. The house elf who trotted in to check on the arrival gave a piercing scream and Disapparated. Moments later she reappeared with Lucius, who fell to his knees in horror.

"Get Father!" he shouted. "Severus!" He didn't know whether to shake him or even to touch him, but he couldn't leave him there. As gently as he was capable of, he pulled Severus from the fireplace and straightened the boy's limbs, his eyes glued to the repulsive stalk of metal piercing the gangly frame.

Abraxas Apparated in. Lucius looked up at him with solemn, round gray eyes full of despair. The older man, swallowing his revulsion, dropped down to feel for a pulse. The usually pale face of the boy was chalk white from blood loss, but his heart beat…for the moment.

"Sisidy, do you remember Doctor Frank Cullin?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy," the elf squeaked.

"Bring him here immediately. Tell him there's an emergency."

The elf popped out as Abraxas waved his wand over Severus' body, whispering sing-song charms and spells. The blood flow began to ebb.

"Father, should we take him to the hospital?"

Abraxas finished the spell he was performing. "If we Apparate with him, it'll kill him. I'm not sure he can even endure the floo network again." His eyes never left the patient. Another wave of his wand snapped the poker off, leaving only a few inches protruding. The freed metal clanked onto the marble hearth. "Lucius, go to your mother's study where I keep my potions. Bring all those marked 'Healing'."

Lucius disappeared immediately. Abraxas delicately placed a hand on Severus' abdomen to feel the life vibrations, which were very faint. He recited another spell to stop internal bleeding, one he wasn't so sure would work with that damned metal pipe in the boy's gut.

Three agonizingly long minutes passed before Lucius returned with his arms full of bottles that he carefully set on the floor beside his father. Abraxas looked them over quickly, sorting them deftly, and choosing one; he pulled the stopper, lifted Severus' head tenderly, and poured some of the liquid into his mouth. It sloshed back out onto the floor. Patiently he poured in more, this time closing Severus' mouth with his hand. Presently he let go, the boy's jaw dropped open, and the blue elixir dribbled out onto his chest.

"Father, he's not…" Lucius' lips set into a thin line.

"Not yet," said the other quietly.

Another popping sound accompanied Sisidy returning with her tiny hand clenched around the doctor's pantleg. The man carried a large satchel of tools. It took him only an instant to assess the situation, then he was digging in his bag for an odd, disk-shaped implement that he lightly placed on top of the cut-off poker end. One smooth flip of his wand removed Severus' Muggle clothing, making his horrific wound all the more apparent and more dreadful looking. Lucius felt paralyzed, unable to turn away. Seconds later, the doctor lay a thin blanket over his upper and lower body, leaving the injury bare.

"Abraxas, hold this. As I work the metal free, pull very gently. It would be extremely helpful if you send organ mending spells at the same time."

Abraxas merely nodded and took hold of the disk. In his other hand, his wand aimed at Severus' abdomen. Doctor Cullin pointed his wand at the poker and began speaking spells Lucius had never heard; his wand moved in tiny circles, gradually spiraling upward, while Abraxas simultaneously chanted another foreign spell. For what seemed ages it went on, endless, tireless reciting of healing charms as the poker ever so slowly worked its way upward, nauseatingly coated in slime and blood. At long last, Abraxas plucked it free and chucked it onto the floor with a long, heavy sigh.

"Let me see your potions," said the doctor, who perused them at a glance. "Have you tried…" He remembered seeing the blue concoction splashed down the boy's chest and found it unnecessary to finish the question. Instead, he selected another potion, which he trickled into the gaping wound. "Abraxas, try the _lif capere_ again. His life force is waning."

_Waning_? Crouched on the marble next to the unmoving figure of his friend, Lucius grasped the word and turned it over in his mind. How could that be after all they'd done? No, the doctor was mistaken. Severus was getting _better_, not worse.

As instructed, Abraxas carefully lifted Severus' head again and poured a bit of the potion in his mouth, then set the bottle down to massage the boy's throat. "Lucius, pour this for me, very slowly, while I try to help him swallow."

In trembling hand, Lucius picked up the liquid and did as he was told. He'd always felt protective of Severus, but to hold the youth's very life in his hands was too much to bear. The thin boy's chest convulsed once as it struggled pitifully to pull in air. It was true, what the doctor said was true. His best friend was dying in front of him. Hot tears stung his eyes yet he couldn't look away. It wasn't supposed to be this way, Severus didn't deserve this.

"That's it," said Abraxas. "You can stop now."

He couldn't stop, he had to do what he could to save Severus.

"Lucius!" his father barked, pushing his son's arm away. "Stop." Gently he lowered Severus' head to the floor. "There's nothing more you can do."


	11. Chapter 11

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eleven

_There's nothing more you can do._

His father's words pounded into Lucius' mind as he knelt beside Severus. He'd failed him. Severus came here for his help and he'd been worse than useless, and now his friend lay dead on the cold marble floor. He fell back heavily onto his rear and brushed away the tears rolling down his cheeks.

_Malfoys aren't crybabies._ One of the many precepts he'd had ingrained in him growing up as a Malfoy, right along with _True purebloods strive for perfection, they don't wallow in mediocrity_ or _ Malfoys walk with pride._ A whole list of such admonitions scrolled through his brain; at the moment he felt sure he'd broken a number of them, and he didn't care.

In an odd sort of detachment he sat watching the other men poking around the boy's open wound, muttering enchantments, administering potions as if to bring him back. What was wrong with them, why couldn't they just leave him alone even in death? Now his father was turning to him, studying him. Lucius hoped the man wasn't angry; he wasn't quite sure why he thought he might be. All the blood on the floor, perhaps.

"Lucius, look at me."

From force of habit the young man's head swung over in obedience to the voice of his sire. He felt numb. A strange humming in his ears distorted normal sound. Time and reality seemed slowed in a most peculiar way. Then it hit him: it was a dream, that's what it was—a silly, stupid, nightmare! Except everybody knew that when you finally realized you were dreaming, you'd wake up. Why wasn't he waking up?

"Lucius!" Abraxas had him by the arms, pulling him to his feet, shaking him gently, staring hard into his eyes.

_Stop shaking me, I'm not a child_, he wanted to say, yet the words weren't coming out.

"He's going into shock," his father murmured to someone else.

Not to Severus, though. Severus was dead. No point in talking to him. Was someone else here? Oh, yes, Doctor Cullin, he remembered. That was him sewing up a gaping hole in Severus' body and waving his wand over the area again, pretending to be a competent wizard. Couldn't fix what was inside, but you want to leave a nice corpse, is that it, doctor?

Now he felt himself falling very, very slowly as if hands guided him down, and his father was talking to the doctor again. How did he get sat up against a wall, and why was it swaying?

"Breathe, son." Lucius breathed in and out a few times. "Now drink this."

A bottle was shoved to his lips and a foul tasting liquid started trickling in. He tried to turn his head to spit it out, but Abraxas held him tight.

"I don't want it," he said softly as it dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

"Swallow it or else," came the stern reply.

There was no arguing with that tone, and years of experience had taught him not to defy Father when he gave a direct order, especially when coupled with a threat. He swallowed, only to have more of the nasty stuff pumped into him. This, too, he choked down as he tried to shake his head in a plea for no more. Abraxas had his wand out, pointed at his son's head while his fingers probed around Lucius' eyes.

"Don't kill me, I'll drink it," Lucius groaned.

"Kill you?" Abraxas repeated in dismay. Realizing his son mistook his ministrations for a death threat, he shook his head and heaved a tired sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm weaving a spell to calm your mind, now be quiet."

After what seemed an eternity, his father moved off to Severus' body to help pretty it up. So it appeared to Lucius. They washed off the copious amounts of dried and sticky blood, careful to avoid the stitches Doctor Cullin had just placed. They were arguing in voices that sounded muffled and far away. Lucius closed his eyes to quell the dizziness.

"Abraxas, are you certain?"

That must be the doctor. Father didn't sound like that, nor did he call himself 'Abraxas', at least not in front of his son.

"Yes, Frank. If you have a better idea, I'd like to hear it."

"It's too dangerous! I thought you said he's not even a purebl—"

"_I have my reasons!_" Now _that_ sounded like Father.

Lucius opened his eyes to see Abraxas resting the tip of his wand against the hollow of his own throat. He murmured, "_Conviare_", then put the wand to Severus' neck and repeated the word. Together the men aimed their wands at the body, making nearly identical slashing and bobbing motions as they intoned in unison yet another spell that did nothing Lucius could detect. They levitated the body onto the sofa and covered it with a blanket. Not the head, though. Weren't you supposed to cover the face, wasn't that a rule or something? He was pretty sure it was.

Once more Abraxas came over to peer at his son. This time he leaned heavily against the wall for support. "Look at me," he commanded again.

"Father, can't you let me be?" he blurted, though he did look. Father seemed extremely tired, shaky. He didn't even appear to notice his son's brazen tone.

Abraxas scrutinized him and spoke over to the doctor. "It's working, the pupils are responding." Then, in a wry drawl he added, "And he's getting cheeky with me."

Alright, he _did_ notice.

"He'll be alright within a few minutes," Frank replied. "You need to rest, Abraxas. What you did takes a huge toll on the body."

What he did? Lucius' ears perked up. He noticed the voices didn't sound distant anymore, the buzzing in his head gone. Movements didn't look like slow motion, things were starting to feel… normal. Whatever his father had fed him or charmed into his brain had finally taken hold.

"What does the doctor mean?" Lucius asked.

"I'll explain another time." Abraxas collapsed next to him and leaned back, exhausted. His face, normally pale like his son, was ashen. "Do you feel better, Lucius?"

"Yes, sir, quite a bit. What happened?"

"Shock," the man replied simply. "Traumatic situations can produce it."

"So Severus really is…dead." Saying the word made it seem too real.

"Dead? No, but he almost was. He's been gravely injured, and he's still very bad off. Doctor Cullin agreed to spend the night to watch over him." He closed his eyes. "I need sleep, Lucius. Can you Apparate me to my room?"

"Yes, sir," he responded automatically with a sudden twinge of dread. What exactly had his father done to become weakened to the point where he couldn't even Apparate himself? He got up, took the man in his arms, and whisked him to his bedroom.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was nearly dark when Tobias got home from work. Technically, got home from the pub he'd stopped at for a beer or two, something he liked to do from time to time, especially when Eileen wasn't home to nag him about it. Severus wouldn't dare open his trap, and he wouldn't tell his mum, either, if he knew what was good for him. So he was a couple hours late, no big deal. It wasn't like he was drunk. He hoped Severus had cooked something good, he was hungry.

He opened the door into a darkened room; the whole house, in fact, was dark and quiet. He detected no smell of food. Tobias swore under his breath. That brat hadn't cooked anything, he was probably in his room with his nose in a book! Maybe a good wallop upside the head with one of those heavy schoolbooks would teach the boy to mind what he was told to do!

Tobias slammed the front door and stomped over to the children's bedroom. The light was off, so he flicked it on. If he hadn't heard Tina whimpering under the bed, he'd have thought the room empty. Great—no food, Severus nowhere in sight, and the twins hiding under their beds: what the hell had they been up to?

"Get out here!" he snarled. "Now!"

Julius and Justina scrambled out from under their beds and ran to cling to his waist, wrapping themselves so hard around him it almost hurt; it definitely alarmed him. This was far from common behavior. When they began to cry, his alarm turned to fear.

"What's wrong? And where's your brother?"

Both children began to talk at once in an almost unintelligible jumble.

"That man—"

"He tried to—"

"—hurt Severus—"

"—take me and—"

"—we put him—"

"—Severus fought—"

"Quiet!" Tobias bellowed. Surprisingly, it stopped not only the chatter, but the sobbing. "Julius, where is Severus?"

"He said Malfoy Manor," the boy sniffed.

"Daddy," Justina began, then broke out bawling again.

Tobias stroked her hair as he pulled the kids to him. He didn't want them to see his outrage. _Malfoy Manor?_ Had his firstborn run off for some forbidden entertainment at that bastard's home? If he had, he'd get the beating of his life when he got back. Tobias stewed in his fury for a short time before considering the larger picture. Perhaps Severus would sneak off for a while if he thought he could get away with it, but would he leave his brother and sister alone like this, to become terrified and hysterical? No, he wouldn't, he was too responsible, which meant he must have been coerced into going. Forcing his voice to be calm, he addressed his son again.

"You said there was a man. What did he do? Did he make Severus go with him?"

Julius shook his head violently. "He killed him! With the poker!" Tears streamed down his face, yet he made no sound.

Tobias froze. The blood ran out of his face. "The man…killed…Severus?"

Julius and Justina bobbed their heads together.

"But you said he went to Malfoy Manor," their father murmured weakly. He felt like his legs would collapse beneath him.

"He stabbed Severus, and Severus made us put him in the fireplace. He didn't come back." Julius began to cry in earnest with hard, choking sobs.

_My son is dead. Oh, my God, my son is dead._ Tobias began to tremble from the horror of the news and the wrath burning in his chest. "Who did it? Do you know him?"

Without a word the twins led him into the living room. Tina flipped the light switch and both children pointed together at the corpse propped against the wall. The sight of him made Tobias recoil at first, then he bid the children stay where they were as he approached cautiously. The man was definitely dead; he looked as though his chest had been crushed with massive pinchers. Tobias reached out to feel the flesh…it was cold. In glancing around the room, he noted that every window had been smashed out and blood on the floor led a wide trail to the fireplace.

"Where's the poker?" he asked softly.

"In—Severus'—belly," Tina choked out.

"Oh, my God," Tobias whispered as he dropped to his knees, fighting the urge to vomit. He'd wanted to believe the kids were exaggerating. A poker in the belly could not be construed as exaggeration. It was true, then. Severus was dead, and nothing would ever be the same. "How did _he_ die?" He jerked a thumb at the body.

"I don't know," Julius said. He came over to hug his father, who was bent over clenching his stomach. Justina followed. "Severus yelled at us to go to our room. We heard glass breaking and came back. That bloke was there, dead, and Severus had the…" He didn't finish.

Tobias wrapped a child in each of his quaking arms. When had this happened? The body was cold, it had to be quite a while ago. Was his son being murdered while he sat a block away at the pub? And the twins, seeing all this, left alone in the house with their brother's killer! He dropped his head and began to weep.

Never had he imagined losing one of his babies, especially in such a horrible way. He loved his children, no matter what anybody else thought. He was hard on them, yes, but children need a firm hand, just like he'd had growing up. The times he'd knocked Severus around when he was drunk, he didn't mean to hurt him. Severus understood that even if Eileen didn't. _Eileen!_ This news would crush her. How could he tell her their boy was dead when he couldn't quite grasp it himself?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

After Lucius helped his father onto his bed, he stepped away toward the door. The sight of the man so sickly looking, so suddenly frail bothered him immensely. Abraxas seemed oblivious to his son's presence, and within moments had fallen into a deep slumber.

Lucius Apparated down into the sitting room where Severus lay. He stood beside the youth, gazing down at him, watching his chest rise and fall. The gashes and bruises on his face were gone. He looked peaked, but peaceful. He was _alive_. God willing, he'd stay that way.

He turned to speak to the doctor, who was seated nearby. "Doctor Cullin, what has caused my father to become so feeble all of a sudden?"

"It worries you, does it?" the man replied with a knowing smile. The stone-faced young man before him may not be showing any emotion, but he could sense the apprehension all the same. "He performed a transfer spell, or should I say _we_ performed it, as it requires a sacrifice and a witness to the sacrifice, myself being the witness."

"What sacrifice?" asked Lucius.

"His life force. He gave it to that boy to keep him alive and to boost his ability to heal."

Silence. Shocked silence. Lucius' self-imposed mask began to slip. His eyes widened until white showed all around the gray and his mouth tipped open just a smidge. "Are you telling me my father is going to die in place of Severus?"

"No, young Malfoy. One can only sacrifice half the force. Your father was astonishingly healthy to start; he'll be quite weak for several days, but fortunately he's got plenty of potions to speed up the strengthening process."

With unbounded relief Lucius lowered himself into the chair opposite the doctor, who was casually sipping a cup of tea. On the coffee table an elf had spread a variety of finger foods, from fruit to mini-sandwiches to dessert bars. A glance at the clock told him supper would soon be ready, meaning Narcissa would be home from visiting her aunt and uncle. If he was going to leave, he'd best do it forthwith. But first, he needed to know more.

"This sacrifice—why have I never heard of it?"

Doctor Cullin shrugged one shoulder as if to say there were a multitude of things a young man his age hadn't heard of. "It's not a spell found in common source materials. Most healers don't even know of it."

"Is it…dark magic?"

The man burst out laughing, nearly spraying his tea at Lucius. He dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief. "I'm sorry, son. If you want my opinion, it's the highest form of light magic. One has to be willing to give of oneself freely. For example, I couldn't take or give _your_ life force, only my own."

_Father willingly sacrificed a part of himself for Severus,_ Lucius thought in amazement. Had the man done so for his son or a loved one, he could understand fully, yet Severus was dirt in Abraxas' eyes. A halfbreed. Had his position as healer trumped his disdain for those inferior to him, or was there more to it? He felt an ever deeper admiration for the man who'd always held his utmost respect.

Emotionless face back in place, Lucius rose. "Thank you, doctor, for all you've done. Naturally, you'll be generously compensated for your time and effort. For anything at all that you need, inform a house elf. Dinner will be served shortly, I trust you'll be there."

"That depends on this young man," answered Doctor Cullin with a gesture toward Severus. "If he stays calm and asleep, I might risk it. If not, there's more than enough right here."

Lucius gave a small bow, then walked to the fireplace. The blood and pieces of poker were gone as if they'd never been. "Sisidy!" The house elf popped in. "You're coming with me. My father would be extremely unhappy if you let anything happen to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Lucius! Sisidy never lets bad on Master Lucius!"

She gazed up at him with sincere affection, and he gently patted her head in return. Of the elves, she was his favorite, so unlike that wretched, psychotic Dobby that he despised, who throughout his childhood had delighted in spying on him and reporting his activities to Abraxas.

He motioned for her to get in the fireplace, then followed her in, took a handful of floo powder, and said, "Snape residence, Spinner's End."

When they arrived in Severus' home, Lucius already had his wand drawn. He didn't know what had happened, but he had a good idea, and he intended to be prepared in the event he had to defend himself.

Tobias jerked his head toward the whooshing sound in the fireplace. A tall, blond young man stood there with some kind of deformed creature trying to look menacing in front of him. The youth's fierce gray eyes lit on him and he strode over to the couch where Tobias sat with the children. Tobias rose to meet him.

Lucius thrust his wand into Tobias' cheek and growled, "I should kill you where you stand for what you did to Severus."

"Who are you? Where is my son?" Tobias demanded, his voice cracking, completely ignoring the wand. If the wizard intended to kill him, he'd have likely done so by now.

A hint of a sneer curled Lucius' lip. "Forgive me for neglecting formalities, but seeing my friends dying in front of me tends to have that effect." He made a derisive bow, never lifting his wand from Tobias' skin. "I am Lucius Malfoy. Your son came to my home dying from a fireplace poker rammed through him, but I suppose you know all about that, don't you?" Lucius twisted the wand, digging it painfully into the flesh. "Now I'm going to make you pay."

"Dad didn't hurt Severus, _he_ did!" squealed Julius as he leaped off the couch to grab Lucius' arm. He pointed at the limp body of the intruder still sitting across the room.

Lucius looked in the indicated direction. In the filth of the decrepit hovel, he hadn't bothered to try to discern one pile of junk from another and had completely failed to notice what was obviously a dead body flung against the wall. He lowered his wand.

"Who is he?"

"Never saw him before," Tobias answered.

Lucius continued to peer around the room. All the windows smashed out, some Muggle appliance shattered, the man's chest caved in with no sign of entry wound. This was no ordinary death.

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't know, I wasn't here," said Tobias almost defensively. Having been once accused of killing his son, maybe he had a right to be defensive. "The kids told me Severus was fighting him, then they heard an explosion of glass breaking, and that bastard was dead. Why didn't you bring Severus back with you? He's my son!"

"My father and a doctor worked for hours to save him. He can't be moved."

Tobias' head whipped up, a whisper of hope dawning in his eyes. "He's—he's _alive_?"

"Barely, but yes."

With a great exhalation of overwhelming emotion, Tobias burst into tears, hugging the twins to him again. "Thank God!" Conscious of the hostile wizard watching him through hooded eyes, he tried to pull himself together.

With a dismissive look at the other man, Lucius put his wand in a pocket of his robe, then ambled slowly around the room, observing everything carefully. The windows had blown out totally, not as if struck in a certain spot and broken. Vague scorch marks surrounded the sills. He paused at the great blood smear staining the floor, his mind raging; Severus had suffered so much in his short life.

Lucius pointed around the room. "Severus did this. It's called unfocused magic."

"What?"

"You see it in children, mostly, although not anywhere near this strong. When a wizard doesn't have a wand, sometimes he throws out a burst of magic in times of stress. Until now I'd never heard of anyone being killed by it. Severus is a very powerful wizard."

"So you're sayin' Severus killed that guy—with magic?"

"Yes." He paused again in front of the dead man, wrinkling his nose. He'd seen his share of dead bodies, more than his share of people killed before his eyes. The sight of this filthy Muggle who'd almost succeeded in murdering his best friend gave him no qualms whatsoever. "Why is this scum still here?"

"What am I gonna do with him?" exclaimed Tobias. "Call the coppers so they can arrest me? I'm waitin' for Eileen to get home so she can do her witch stuff on him."

Lucius rolled his eyes at the description. Witch stuff? "I'll take care of it. Sisidy, fix the windows and clean up in here."

The elf scurried to do as she was told, her magic instantly at work repairing a window pane and scrubbing it until it sparkled. Rightly assuming the house to be protected from unauthorized Apparation, Lucius took out his wand again, levitated the corpse out the back door into the pitch blackness, and with evident distaste grasped ahold of the man and Disapparated.

He'd thought to bury the filthy Muggle somewhere nearby, then reconsidered. If any chance existed of law enforcement finding him and connecting him to Severus, it was unacceptable. Instead, he ended up thousands of miles away, dropped the body in an ungracious heap in a remote desert-like area of the States, and Apparated once more. Assuming they found the body before vultures stripped it clean, there was no way anyone could suspect the impoverished skinny boy from Spinner's End, who'd never even left his native England.

Lucius returned to find the house spotless and in perfect order. Any trace of bloodstains had been thoroughly removed along with cleaning the entire floor. The windows shone brightly even in the dark.

"Well done, Sisidy." To Tobias he said, "He's gone. This never happened. Where are the children?"

"I sent them to their room, why?"

"I'm going to erase their memories of this. Unless you _want_ them to remember," he drawled snidely at the man's look of reluctance at having magic used on his kids.

Tobias shook his head. It was bad enough they'd witnessed it at all; for them to harbor nightmares of it would be intolerable. Not to mention it wouldn't do for them to be blabbing something like this around. "Don't hurt them," he warned, as if he had the capacity to wreak vengeance if Lucius did hurt them.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow and gave a contemptuous snort. "I'm not drunk, you needn't fear." He went in to the children's room.

"Luc—Mr. Malfoy, is Severus really alive like dad says?" asked Julius, running up to him yet careful not to make contact.

"Yes, he is." He motioned for the girl to join them. "Your dad thinks it best if I do a little charm on you both. Stand right where you are." His wand pointed at Julius. "_Obliviate_." He did the same to Justina, both of whom then blinked a few times and looked at him curiously.

"Who are you?" asked Justina.

"Lucius Malfoy. I'm a friend of Severus. He's come to stay with me for a while because he's kind of sick. As soon as he's better he'll come back." Staring into their innocent faces, for a fraction of a second he had the urge to drop the pretense and tell the whole truth, which of course would nullify the entire process. "I need to be going now."

Back in the living room, he fixed Tobias with a haughty glare. "I suggest you return Severus' wand to him upon his arrival. I'd hate to have something like this occur again. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I will," Tobias said, not because he felt threatened, but because he'd been blaming and berating himself since the moment he heard the news. Had Severus used his wand, all this might have been avoided. His own insecurities had nearly cost his son his life, and he couldn't abide anything like this again.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for all you've done. Thank your father and that doctor for us, will you? I never woulda thought Abraxas Malfoy had a decent side."

Wrong thing to say, even on a good day. Today was not a good day. The haughty look on Lucius' face morphed into an outright glower, and he came within an inch of losing his composure altogether. He gritted his teeth and seethed, "Don't you dare speak ill of my father! He saved your son's life! You know what you are? A lowly, abusive worm who's jealous of a man your wife hasn't seen since she was fourteen years old. You're pathetic!"

He turned and stalked into the fireplace with Sisidy trotting right behind him, then spun around for a parting shot. "I know what you do to Severus, the way you treat him, and don't try to tell me it's discipline! Getting drunk and pounding the shit out of your kid isn't discipline! I'll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Snape. If I find out you're brutalizing your children again, I won't hesitate to stop you. Keep that in mind."

With a toss of floo powder, he and Sisidy were gone. 


	12. Chapter 12

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twelve

"Who told you to get out of that bed?" barked the stern voice of Abraxas.

From the closet of the guest room to which he'd been moved three days ago, Severus leaped upright with a muffled shriek as his stiff, ravaged body stretched suddenly. Guiltily he whirled to face the doorway where the man stood leaning on his cane. "Nobody, sir," he squeaked.

Abraxas snapped his fingers and pointed at the bed in one smooth, practiced motion. Holding his abdomen, Severus delicately traversed the room, slipped into bed, and pulled the covers up. All he needed was to make Mr. Malfoy angry with him after all the man had already done for him. As if to recognize and expound on his fear, Abraxas trudged across to the bed with his cane stamping along each step of the way. He stopped and peered down at Severus, who was busy noticing how drained the older wizard looked, how sunken and dark his eyes seemed.

"You will not leave this bed without permission of myself, Doctor Cullin, or one of the medi-witches I've hired to tend you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. But I—"

"Is. That. Understood?"

Severus nodded and averted his eyes. "Yes, sir." He'd only wanted to find his clothing so he could change out of what were evidently Lucius' silk pajamas, for they hung on his skinny body, and he wasn't used to such fine material. He didn't want to ruin it.

To his discomfort, Abraxas pulled back the covers, lifted the pajama shirt, and rested one hand on Severus' abdomen. He took out his wand and pointed it at various spots near the deep pink scar as he gently palpitated the area with his other hand.

"You sustained a great deal of organ and muscle damage," he explained curtly. "It's only been four days; just because the skin looks healed doesn't mean you're better. Moving about too soon might have reopened a wound."

"I'm sorry. It didn't hurt that much, so I thought it would be okay," responded Severus, wishing he could disappear into the mattress.

"I don't detect any new damage. But if I catch you again…" He didn't finish, primarily because he wasn't sure what he'd do if he caught the boy disobeying him. Severus wasn't his son, he couldn't very well smack him, and even if he could, he wouldn't. Not when he was hurt, anyway.

The warning alone was enough for Severus. From Lucius he'd gleaned that Abraxas tended to carry through on his threats, and he'd rather not find out what the man intended to do to him. He pulled the covers up to his chin almost as if they served as a protective barrier.

"Mr. Malfoy, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Go ahead."

"Why did you save my life?"

Taken aback by the frank query, Abraxas gave an odd, uncomfortable expression. "What kind of a question is that?"

"An honest one," answered Severus, careful to avoid eye contact. Those Malfoys and their gray, penetrating gazes could be lethal. "I'm not related to you, I'm not a pureblood. I highly doubt you'd do the same for anyone on the street." When the reply was slow in coming, Severus added, "The _conviare_ can be risky for the one performing it. I see the way it's sapped your vitality."

Obviously surprised, Abraxas said, "You know of the _conviare_?"

Severus bobbed his head. "I read a lot, I like to learn and practice obscure spells. My mother told me you used it."

"I must confess myself impressed. Lucius told me you were an unusual boy." A hint of respect shone in his eyes. "Do I truly look so atrocious from its effects?"

"No, not so dreadful. Drawn, tired."

Abraxas allowed an actual smile to turn up the corners of his mouth. "It's only temporary. In a few days I'll no longer require the cane for support. You, on the other hand, will still be in bed. I'll see that you're brought reading material." He made as if to leave.

"Mr. Malfoy, you didn't answer my question."

"You are a persistent lad, aren't you?" Abraxas spun slowly back to face the youth. "I'm afraid my reasons might sound selfish to you."

"Anyone who risks his own life to save another can't be too selfish," replied Severus evenly.

"Has your mother told you about us…about our betrothal?"

"Yes, sir. She said you broke the engagement to marry another—Lucius' mother."

"I've always felt I did your mother an injustice. Make no mistake, I harbored no love for her. Our betrothal was arranged by our parents when she was a child of twelve and I was a boy your age. It was my duty, yet I abandoned it, shaming Eileen in the process. I've always felt bad about that."

Severus couldn't say he was sorry for the turn of events, since had they progressed as planned, he would never have been born. "So what you're saying is that in saving me, you gave my mother her son, thereby evening the score."

The man gave a wry smile. "I like to think I'm more human than that. I wanted to spare Eileen the heartache of losing her child. I know what it feels like."

Severus paused before answering. The look on the older man's face bespoke the terrible suffering of a father who'd lost two of his own children. "I'm sorry to bring up painful memories, Mr. Malfoy. I can never repay your sacrifice, but given time I'll reimburse you for all you've spent—"

"No repayment is necessary, Severus," Abraxas broke in. "In fact, I'll be highly insulted if you mention it again." He turned to go once more, hobbled over to the door, and said, "I'm going to rest. I suggest you stay put unless you'd like to feel my wrath."

Thinking to himself how docile and easy to control the boy was compared to Lucius, he labored down the hall to his bedroom. Had it been his son in the bed, he'd likely have to post a guard to enforce his directives. He moaned softly at the effort involved in clumping back to his room. This had been the first time venturing out since the transfer, and he still felt unbearably weak. The strengthening potions were helping quite a lot, he simply wasn't used to being infirm. He found it extremely irritating.

Severus stared at the man until he was out of sight. The thought of disobeying didn't cross his mind, he'd stay put as ordered. It struck him that although Abraxas portrayed himself as gruff and strict, he was also clearly generous and more than passingly kind. All his life he'd heard his father rant about the evil Abraxas Malfoy whenever the name came up. Severus, naturally, had come to believe the Malfoy man must be indisputably wicked. Now that he really pondered it, it occurred to him that Tobias ought to be thanking Mr. Malfoy for casting off Eileen Prince, else Tobias could never have married her! Was it possible his father felt so insecure as to consider Abraxas a rival after all these years? As ludicrous as it sounded, he wouldn't put it past his father.

He closed his eyes. He'd only been awake for a couple of hours, yet he felt so tired.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa felt lonely. When he was home, Lucius spent a good deal of time with Severus or his father, not that she begrudged him that. Severus' brutal attack had left him nearly dead, shocking everyone in the household; Abraxas' offering of his own life force to save the boy touched her deeply. Still, she felt lonely since the two in question slept most of the day when she was in a position to keep them company. She flopped onto a sofa in one of the parlors.

"Dobby!" she called.

The house elf popped in. "Yes, Miss Narcissa?"

"Go to my Aunt Walburga Black's house and find Regulus. Bring him here with you."

"Right away, Miss Narcissa." Dobby disappeared. Only a minute later, he reappeared holding Regulus by his belt loops. Regulus did not look pleased.

"Let go of me!"

Dobby released him and cowered off into a corner.

Regulus, taking in his surroundings and his cousin, gave her a disgruntled scowl. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Visiting with you, Reg," she answered pleasantly. She bit her lip to keep from laughing when she noted he wasn't even wearing shoes.

"You're not supposed to abduct your visitors, Cissy. I'd think the Malfoys would have taught you the basics by now. And maybe I had other things I planned to do today," he replied nastily.

Narcissa tried her hardest to appear innocent. "Like what? Visit Sirius?"

A fleeting look of surprised guilt shot across his face, to be hastily replaced by annoyance. "Why do you keep harping on that?"

"Because you lied to me. I can tell, so there's no point in keeping up the front. There's no one here to spy on you, you can talk freely. Why don't you sit down?" She patted the sofa beside her.

To show his frustration, he stomped past her and threw himself into one of the chairs. "Mum doesn't know where I am. She'll get mad at me."

"We can remedy that by sending her an owl. Meanwhile, you didn't deny lying to me about Sirius—"

"Cissy, quit!" he snapped, taking on an air of desperation. "Mum and dad are making you do this, aren't they? They want you to trap me into saying I side with Sirius so they can get rid of me, too! But I don't, I swear I don't! Please don't do this."

Narcissa, overcome with sisterly affection for the boy, leaned forward and took his hand. It was shaking. "Reg, even if I thought you were worse than Sirius, I wouldn't say a word to them. I know you're loyal, and you feel like you have to prove your loyalty to your parents, but you don't have to for me. I've been badgering you because I don't want to disown Sirius, either."

"Really?" Regulus seemed immeasurably relieved.

"Really. I was hoping you could tell me where he is—your parents tend to avoid the topic, you now. Maybe I could talk some sense into him."

Regulus snorted, then laughed. "Good luck. I've tried."

"Have you had lunch?" she asked.

The boy nodded. "But I could use a snack. Then, if you want, we can go see Sirius. I doubt you'd want him to come here."

The very notion made Narcissa's spine tingle. Imagine the reaction if Lucius or Abraxas caught her entertaining a blood traitor in their house!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The house seemed strangely quiet when Lucius arrived home from work. He'd expected, or at least hoped Narcissa would meet him at the door with one of her exquisite kisses…or maybe three or four, and a quick trip to their room. _Stop it, Malfoy_, he cautioned himself. Can't afford to get carried away. A house elf informed him she'd gone out with her cousin Regulus, dashing any prospect of a quickie before dinner.

"At least he's not the traitor," Lucius murmured to himself.

He bounded up the stairs to see his friend and stuck his head in the guest room, to be greeted with a wave. "Hey," was all Severus said. The medi-witch checking on him left the room.

"Feeling better?" Lucius walked over and pulled up a chair.

"Yeah," Severus admitted with a rueful face. "I got out of bed and your dad yelled at me."

Lucius' body quaked with silent laughter. He didn't find it difficult to envision his father shouting at the poor kid, or Severus' cowed reaction. "I guess you shouldn't get out of bed. Did your mother come by?"

"You know she comes every day. She said my dad wants to come, but…" It wasn't necessary to finish. They all knew no Muggle was welcome in the Malfoy home. He found himself almost missing the man, especially after mum had told him how protective he'd become of the twins and how grieved he'd been when he believed Severus was dead.

"You're better off without him," Lucius said callously. "At least he doesn't have the opportunity to hurt you here."

"He's not planning to hurt me, Lucius," Severus responded.

"You mean he's sober?" retorted the other in mock surprise. He gave a disbelieving grunt. "Why do you put up with him?"

Severus' brows dipped and his voice hardened. "He's my father. I should think _you_ would understand that."

"My father never beat me without a reason!" Lucius shot back. "And yours is a—a _Muggle_." The last word he spit with evident distaste.

Black eyes shining with suppressed anger, Severus bit back the urge to tell his friend where to shove it. Coldly he said, "That makes me half Muggle, doesn't it? Just like Mick."

Lucius' blood ran cold and he paused in horror. The heinous name forbidden to be spoken in Malfoy Manor had been spoken! Ever since Lucius' sister Aphrodite and her daughter had been murdered by her halfblood husband Mick, no one had dared use the repulsive name in front of him or Abraxas. Shocked both by the name usage and the comparison, Lucius cringed in disgust.

"You're not like him, Severus! You're different, you're a gifted, powerful wizard. Your Muggle blood must be diluted or something."

Sneering slightly, Severus replied, "If only." Changing the subject back to Tobias, he said, "My dad told me he loves me, you know."

Aghast, his friend exclaimed, "What? While he was beating you?"

"No," Severus sighed. "He doesn't hit me _all_ the time, Lucius. He got hammered at Christmas time and started blubbering, then he passed out on my bed."

"What was he doing in your bed?" asked Lucius, wide-eyed, afraid the situation was far worse than he'd ever envisioned.

Severus observed Lucius' reaction and started to laugh, which made his stomach area ache. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Do you think he meant it?"

"I know he did. When he's that drunk, he can't lie."

"Hmm," said Lucius, leaning back. That threw a little wrench in his Tobias-is-a-purely-evil-git theory. Only a little wrench, though. It was still possible he was _mostly_ evil.

Suddenly serious, Severus uttered, "Lucius, I want to ask you a favor. After all you've done, I have no right, but—will you take me to meet the dark lord? I want to join and receive the Mark."

If Severus had asked him to throw scalding water in his face, Lucius couldn't have been more appalled. The kid had no idea what he was asking, it had to be some stupid schoolboy dare!

"Why would you want to do something like that?"

"It gains people's respect," he answered candidly. "I want that."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Lucius bent over and rested his elbows on his knees. This was wrong on so many levels he didn't know where to begin! "Severus, I got sucked into this for selfish reasons. You need to understand this isn't a game. Once you're in, you don't leave. It doesn't matter what you want or hope or believe: you serve or you die."

"If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me," Severus persisted stubbornly. "You follow the dark lord; I, too, shall follow and serve."

"I don't want to take you."

"Why not?" Severus seemed genuinely affronted.

"Because you don't belong there!" Lucius shouted, no longer able to maintain calm. "You're free, stay that way!"

"I don't belong anywhere!" Severus snapped back. He made a wild gesture around the room. "I don't belong here, or in the Muggle world, or at Hogwarts. The only people who treat me decently are Death Eaters! What does that say about me?"

Tears hung in his eyes, ready to fall, making Lucius feel wretched for upsetting him when he was so ill. Apparently he'd thought a great deal about this decision, and if Lucius refused to take him, he would ask another, wouldn't he? Wouldn't it be better, if Severus was resolute in this endeavor, to be the one to present him to the dark lord? If nothing else, Lucius would receive the accolades for bringing in a new member. In a final attempt to sway him from the course, Lucius decided to tell the whole, unvarnished truth. If this didn't sway him, nothing would.

"Severus, the dark lord is not kind. He will own you in a way no one should be owned. This isn't a country club. If you anger him, he might kill you; at the least he'll torture you like he does the rest of us. I've told you about the _Cruciatus_."

"I remember." Severus swallowed hard. Lucius had described the unimaginable pain inflicted on him numerous times for failing to comply or to please the dark lord. Nevertheless, this was what he wanted, what he needed to gain prestige and, eventually, power. All he had to do was obey Lord Voldemort; he was used to obeying. "This is a huge step in my life, Lucius. I'd like you by my side."

"I can't change your mind?"

"No. If you won't accompany me, I'll have to ask one of the guys at school."

"Alright, if you're so set on this, I'll take you. But not until you're well." Lucius stood up, grimacing, loathing himself. Narcissa was going to be pissed.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Regulus, why are we in the woods?" Narcissa slapped at a bug crawling on her arm, then frantically raked through her hair for fear more of them had attacked. She hated bugs with a hatred almost as consuming as what she felt for Muggles.

"Waiting," he said. Regulus had sat down on an overturned log as patiently as you please. Every so often he casually swiped at flying insects.

"Couldn't we wait somewhere else?"

"No one will see us here, Cissy. You don't _want_ anyone to see, do you?" Again the nagging fear that she'd been recruited to entrap him came screaming to the forefront.

Before she could answer, she heard a growl behind her and whirled, wand drawn and aimed at a mangy black dog. Regulus leaped from his seat to knock her arm upward at the same time a yellow jet of light flew from her wand. It snapped off several tree limbs, which crashed heavily to the forest floor.

"What are you doing?" she hollered, readying for another shot.

"It's Sirius, Cissy!"

The dog, which had run to hide behind a tree, cautiously poked its head out. A moment later Sirius sauntered over to greet them, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Didn't know I was an animagus, did you?" he grinned.

"I always knew you were a dog," she retorted.

He gave his brother a hard hug and turned to Narcissa. They'd not ever been close in the same sense he was with Regulus, he didn't quite know how he should react. Obviously she didn't, either, for she stood looking flustered and uneasy.

"What the hell," he mumbled. He stepped in to embrace her as well.

Narcissa patted his back, then pushed herself away. Cousin or not, whether she loved him or not, he was an outcast. The thought toyed with her psyche. "Sirius, I asked your brother to bring me."

"I kind of figured that," he said as he examined Regulus' footwear. "Since when do mum and dad spring for Italian leather?"

Regulus looked down. "Oh, these are Lucius' shoes."

"Really? I didn't realize Malfoy was so generous in lending his things."

With a sidelong glance at Narcissa, who was beginning to pout, he replied, "Cissy kidnapped me from home, and I wasn't wearing shoes."

"I didn't kidnap—oh, never mind. Sirius, I came to try to knock some sense into you. Everybody's unhappy with the way things are. If you'd just go home and apologize to your parents, everything—"

"Woah, woah!" Sirius interjected. "Apologize to _them_? Cissy, my dad beat me half to death and threatened to kill me. Who should be apologizing?"

Narcissa let out a hard breath. Sirius always was a stubborn, hardheaded jackass. "You drew your wand on your mother! That's not acceptable."

"But my parents constantly harassing me and letting everyone else pick on me is fine, right?"

"All you'd have to do to get back in their favor is stop being a blood traitor. That friend of yours—Potter—he's a pureblood, you could still be his friend. Just stop championing mudbloods and Muggle rights. It's nauseating, to be honest."

"This whole conversation is nauseating," he muttered.

"The tapestry can easily be repaired, Sirius. Your brother wants you home, your family wants you back—"

"Cissy, enough! I'm not going back, I'm not apologizing, and I'm not going to pretend I'm better than everyone else because of my bloodline. If that's all you came to say, you may as well go home." He stood glaring at her with a defiance born of outrage.

Narcissa stared back at him. How could someone raised in a Black home turn out so badly? First her own sister—for which she blamed her parents for their leniency—and now Sirius. It made no sense, they'd all been raised with true ideals, yet what had caused them to become so warped? Andromeda…well, she'd been swayed by a handsome face attached to a mudblood, but Sirius had no provocation at all. She fervently hoped whatever caused this epidemic wasn't contagious!

"I feel sorry for you, Sirius. You had everything and chose to throw it away."

"Don't waste your pity on me, Cissy. I'm perfectly happy."

Regulus regarded the two carefully. On the one hand, Sirius was his brother and he loved him. On the other hand, he loved the rest of his family, too. He didn't want to lose them all, and the only thing he knew for certain that would cement him in their good graces was to prove how loyal he was to the family, to purebloods. There was only one sure way to do that, and as soon as he got back to school he'd be paying a visit to the seventh year Death Eaters. His parents would be pleased, and Sirius need never know.

Narcissa gave her cousin one last pitying look. "I love you, Sirius, I can't change that, but it's probably best if I don't meet you again, at least not frequently."

Allowing his heart to soften toward her, Sirius quipped, "I love you, too, Cissy. I think you're right, our ideas don't mix. You take care."

"You, too." She turned to Regulus, trying to hide the tears glistening in her eyes. "Are you ready? I'll take you home now."


	13. Chapter 13

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirteen

For a month Severus had recuperated at Malfoy Manor. Given the circumstances, it could hardly be called an ideal situation; to think it had been the happiest time of his life was downright pathetic. Now, his first night back home, he sat on his bed twirling his wand in his fingers as his brother and sister chattered on about their lives while he'd been gone. In the living room, his parents' argument carried in to pierce his heart.

"Julius, I heard all that. You told me when mum brought you to visit," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh, I forgot. Well—" and he started off again with Justina tossing in her two cents now and again.

Severus tried to listen, he really did, but the tension he felt mounting crowded his brain. Why did they have to fight? He'd had all of eight hours of peace in the Snape home before they just couldn't tolerate the calm anymore and had to kick it into high gear. Was it his very existence that prompted them to snipe at each other incessantly? Or were they simply incapable of being civil to one another?

"Tina, did mum and dad fight a lot while I was gone?" he asked.

"Yeah, same as always," she answered, wondering what that had to do with her new beau down the block, the one she'd been rambling about.

That was comforting…sort of. At least it wasn't personal. He swung his legs off the bed. "Kids, it's time to go to bed. Go tell mum and dad goodnight."

"Will you take us somewhere tomorrow?" asked Julius.

"Sure, as long as it's not too much exertion. Mr. Malfoy made me promise to take it easy for another month." He waited for the children to come back, hugged and kissed them, and tucked them into bed. He'd missed them very much. As he left the room, he turned off the light and inserted his wand into his pocket. How incredibly good to have it with him once more, he'd felt positively naked without it!

Passing by his parents, who didn't even seem to notice him, he went into the kitchen. He wasn't hungry and didn't plan to start a potion at this hour, but at least _they_ weren't in there. Unfortunately, the short distance did nothing to dilute their voices. He covered his ears, to no avail. When he could take it no longer, he stormed into the living room where Eileen stood with her back to the fireplace, Tobias in front of her, both shouting at the same time.

"Mum! Dad!" he screeched over them. Startled, they hushed abruptly and turned to him. "Can't you stop fighting?"

"Mind your own business, boy," his father growled.

"It is my business when I can't escape your damned quarreling!" Severus snapped. "It's the whole neighborhood's business! I'm sure they don't appreciate—"

"Severus, that's enough. Mind your manners," Eileen admonished. "Your father and I have problems to work out."

"And this is how you work them out? I've yet to see any of your arguments work _anything_ out!"

Tobias took a step in his direction; Severus flinched but held his ground. "Severus, I'd hate to slap you down on your first day home, but you keep pushin' and I will. I'll not have my son mouthin' off to me or his mother."

"Then I guess you won't have me telling the truth, either." Eyes blazing in foolhardy defiance, Severus forced his body to walk right up to his father. He was asking for it—no, he was _begging_ for it, and he knew it, yet he couldn't stop himself. "I've been home for one day. Can't you quit bickering for _one_ _lousy_ _day_?"

Tobias' hand twitched of its own accord, trying to swing up and shut the insolent mouth. Severus deserved it, it wouldn't do to let the kid get away with being a smartass…but he couldn't do it. The horrifying image of his son impaled with a poker, dying, hadn't left his mind since the day it happened, and although he'd not witnessed it himself, it tore him apart. To have his son standing here alive and well was more than he himself deserved. How could he punish the boy for speaking the truth, even if he didn't like what he said?

Eileen, witnessing the interaction, had fully expected Tobias to go off on their son, she'd been ready to jump in to defend him. When Tobias merely backed off and flopped onto the couch, she was flabbergasted. "Severus, maybe you should go to bed," she suggested.

Tobias hesitantly reached for his comfort, his ally—the bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him. He knew the pattern by heart, and it frightened him now. He'd get drunk, his indignation would compel him to regain the respect he'd lost by not clobbering the kid for his impertinence, and he'd knock Severus into next week. That's the way things were, the way they'd been all his life. He didn't know anything else, and yet things were different now.

As Severus watched his father struggling with his inner demons, his eyes locked on the bottle. If Tobias began drinking, any prayer he had of a tranquil night would be shot to hell. He'd be lucky to escape with a beating that didn't cause internal bleeding from his damaged organs. He freely acknowledged it his own fault, he'd never learned to keep his opinions to himself, but self-preservation was his first concern. After that he'd worry about everything else.

He came over and knelt beside the man. "Dad, don't drink it. Please."

"I don't wanna hurt you, Severus, I honestly don't," the man replied in a strained voice, staring into his son's face. "Why do you have to push me?"

"I'm sorry. I was way out of line to yell at you and mum. I'm just so tired of it, the fighting all the time. It kills me."

"You think I like it?" Tobias responded glumly. He set the bottle down. "Your mum and me, we didn't always argue, not at the first."

"We were happy," Eileen agreed. "Tobias, why don't you come to bed. We'll talk tomorrow." She cast him a promising look, which he failed to notice.

"You go," he murmured. "I'll be in soon enough."

Eileen gave a slight, stiff smile, kissed the top of Severus' head, and went into her room. Tobias draped an arm heavily around Severus' shoulders.

"Go to bed, son. I won't drink it."

"Dad, would you come outside with me for a minute? I want to show you something." Severus stood up and headed for the back door, turning his head to make sure the man followed.

Tobias gave a cross between an aggravated sigh and a relieved grunt. He met his son in a tiny, dark corner of their tiny garden. Severus was holding the kitchen broom and his wand.

"You promised never to use that thing on me," he croaked in alarm.

"Don't worry, I won't." Severus took hold of his father's arm and, without warning, Disapparated. They materialized in an open field.

"That felt awful!" Tobias exclaimed. Then he noted with amazement and a hint of fear that they weren't home anymore. "Where the hell are we? Severus, what are you playin' at?"

"You wanted me to make you a potion to give you the sensation of flying, right? Why not actually _fly_?"

Tobias glanced at the scrawny broom clutched in his son's hand. "Are you nuts? On that thing?"

"Yes, sir." A wave of his wand enchanted the broom to grow larger and quite sturdy. Another gave the enlarged broom the ability to fly. "Now it's ready."

"I'll fall off! I don't know how to use it."

Severus smiled wryly, so unlike the sneer reserved for most people. "I'll be there, too, dad. I'll put a charm on you to make certain you don't fall."

"You're sure it's safe?" Tobias asked tentatively.

"Absolutely."

Intrigued in spite of his misgivings, Tobias murmured, "I'll trust you." He watched the boy mount up and got on behind him.

"Hold on to me," Severus instructed. Tobias wrapped his arms around his son's thin frame. Severus pushed off and they shot into the air.

Even for a summer night, the air high up in the sky felt nippy, chilling their faces and fingers as they soared above the fields and streams. At first reluctant to look down, Tobias soon grew to enjoy the scenery and the wind in his face, the sense of utter freedom. When they landed half an hour later, he dismounted on wobbly knees, eyes shining, smiling broadly with a joy Severus hadn't seen in ages.

"That was incredible! I'd no idea you wizards could do stuff like this! I mean, your mum said so, but I never saw it."

Extremely gratified, Severus replied, "We can do a lot more than this."

"Can your mum?"

"Of course. Don't you ever talk about it?"

"No," Tobias confessed shamefacedly. "I didn't want to hear it. I guess I was kinda jealous."

"That's understandable," said Severus. If he couldn't do magic, wouldn't he be envious of those who could? He couldn't begin to imagine how awful a squib must feel. "I'll bet mum would love to take you flying, and show you so many things. Would you let her?"

"I would now," said his father, still grinning moronically. "Let's go home so I can tell mum where I been!"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The note wasn't meant for Narcissa. She knew that because the owl hadn't come to her, and the parchment was stuffed in the pocket of Lucius' sleeping robes. Even so, a bit of it protruding beckoned to her like a siren, and Lucius _had_ left his clothing in plain sight in the hamper without instructing an elf to clean it. If he'd wanted the note destroyed, he should have done so.

"It's probably some boring work stuff," she told herself. It couldn't be from a woman, she had no reason to fear there. If Lucius ever cheated on her, he'd die: she knew it, he knew it, everybody at their wedding had witnessed the Unbreakable Vow of Fidelity. Still, that wouldn't stop women from ogling her husband, desiring him the way she did. The very thought got her dander up. She daintily plucked the paper out of the pocket and unfolded it.

_Dear Lucius,_

_Your father has judged me to be wholly well._

_I'm reminding you of your promise to escort_

_me to the dark lord. I'd like to do it before_

_school commences, if convenient._

_Your friend, Severus_

Narcissa read the note again, her hands shaking slightly. Severus wanted Lucius to take him to meet Lord Voldemort? And Lucius had agreed? The notion baffled her. How many times had Lucius complained to her about his service to the vile wizard? And yet he'd thrust his friend into that life? It was incomprehensible.

She slipped the note into her robes and went downstairs to wait for Lucius to get home from work. She didn't like ambushing him the moment he arrived, it simply seemed best to confront him immediately and be done with it. She hadn't long to wait.

When Lucius came through the door, his face brightened into a smile at seeing his wife. The smile faded rapidly when she held up the parchment in front of him. He unconsciously slipped on his 'innocent face' mask.

"What's this?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't give me that, Malfoy," Narcissa fairly growled. "Do you think I can't see right through you, even if others can't? But I don't need to, because it's all spelled out right here." She flicked the paper loudly with her free hand.

"What were you doing going through my belongings?" he challenged in return.

"I didn't realize the hamper was yours alone. I was putting some laundry in it when this note caught my eye. I cannot believe you!"

Lucius took her arm to lead her out of the foyer. "My father will be home soon if he's not here already. I'd prefer to speak about this in private."

"Maybe I should tell him you've begun recruiting Death Eaters," she taunted. "Oh, wait, no—you began that a long time ago with Bellatrix."

Her husband resisted the urge to lash out. Instead he Disapparated with her into their bedroom. "Don't you dare mention this to my father!" he shouted.

"Why not? He just saved Severus' life, and now you're trying to get him killed!" she shrilled back.

"This wasn't my idea, Narcissa, but thank you for your overwhelming confidence in me," he spat with a sneer. "Severus asked me to accompany him."

"He's seventeen, Lucius! Isn't it enough you ruined your life, now you have to help him ruin his?"

"As I recall, I 'ruined my life' for _you_!" he bellowed.

Narcissa's eyes grew wide and filled with tears. Her lips started to tremble. When Lucius allowed Lord Voldemort to mark him at the age of sixteen, he'd done so for one reason: the dark lord had given his word to eliminate Narcissa's fiancé, with whom she'd been coerced into making an Unbreakable Vow to marry. Upon his death, Narcissa had been free to love and wed Lucius. In plain language, Lucius had joined Lord Voldemort in order to have the girl he loved. It made her stomach turn to have him throw it in her face. She spun away from him, pitched herself on the bed, and began to cry.

Lucius sat down beside her, his anger gone in a heartbeat. "Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"It's true," she sobbed. "You wish you could undo it."

"No, I don't." Gently he picked her up into a sitting position and rested her head on his chest as he folded her in his arms. "I've never regretted being with you. I love you so much, I need you so much. Sure, if the dark lord died, I'd be glad and relieved, but having you by my side makes life bearable. Why would I want to undo that?"

"Because you belong to him," she sniffed.

"I belong to you. I grudgingly work for him," Lucius corrected her with a kiss to her forehead. He lowered his lips to hers. They stayed this way, entwined together, for some time.

At last Narcissa said in a small, unaccusing voice, "Why did you consent to take Severus? I thought you really cared for him."

Lucius pressed his cheek to hers. "I do, Narcissa. I truly believe he's the only real friend I have, the only one who cares about me, who isn't my friend because it will gain him something. I tried to talk him out of this insane venture, but he's insistent. He said if I wouldn't do it, he'd ask someone else."

"Maybe you should've told him to ask someone else, then."

Lucius shook his head in a sad, self-despising way. "You know me. I take advantage of even the worst situations. I hope it doesn't disgust you too much to know I agreed in order to gain praise from the master. Whoever brings Severus will gain favor; I figured it may as well be me."

Narcissa cuddled up to her husband. How she wished she could change things, those horrible things related to the dark wizard, the abominable hold he had on Lucius. Only she couldn't. All she could do was love him. She sighed as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed protectively.

"You must do what's best for you, Lucius. If Severus won't listen to reason, that's not your fault. I think he'd be glad to know he was helping you."

"I don't want him to help, I want him to stay as far from Voldemort as possible." He shook his head, then reached up to release his hair from the black cord tying it back. "It's like trying to talk to an exasperating little brother."

"I guess you'd know, having been the annoying little brother," Narcissa smiled.

It made Lucius smile, too. "I'll do my beat to look out for him and take care of him. It's all I can do." He kissed her once more and stood up, then started to undress. "I'll take a shower, then we can do down to supper."

Narcissa studied him intently as he stripped. Every time it enthralled her to scrutinize his perfect, pale skin, his manly attributes. Knowing how much she enjoyed gawking at him, Lucius made a special show of undressing very slowly, provocatively, finally lightly wiggling his rear for her and laughing.

"How's that, Miss Narcissa?" he chuckled, standing nude before her.

"Exquisite, Master Lucius. Let's see how it looks in the shower." With a quick flick of her wand, her clothes were on the bed. She snatched his hand and ran toward the bathroom.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, remember what I told you," Lucius warned. "He'll try to intimidate you, he'll use Legilimency—don't block him or he won't trust you."

"I remember, Lucius," Severus answered calmly. Although his insides fluttered wildly, he would be brave. Screw those damned Gryffindorks who thought they were _so_ courageous! He'd like to see one of them face the darkest wizard in the world without pissing their pants!

"Hold on to me," instructed Lucius. When he felt his friend's hand on his arm, he Disapparated. Outside the old farmhouse they reappeared. Lucius turned to him with a sad grin. "Welcome to America."

He led the way into the dimly lit home, expecting to have a less-than-pleasant confrontation with Bellatrix, only to come across Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan in the sitting room near the fireplace. They greeted Lucius almost without noticing him; their focus centered solely on the new boy.

Rabastan looked Severus up and down. "That's him?" he asked.

Malfoy sneer firmly entrenched on his face, Lucius remarked, "Ever the observant master of the obvious."

Rodolphus chuckled and poked his irked brother in the ribs. "Shouldn't ask stupid questions." He gestured toward the fireplace, where Lucius already stood on the hearth.

Severus stepped over beside him and a moment later they were flying downward at an intense speed, to land smoothly seconds later in the cavern lit by torches. Severus shivered at the sudden drop in temperature, while his eyes roamed the cave.

Lord Voldemort strolled in from somewhere in the dark recesses, Bellatrix at his elbow. Together they walked right up to the pair. Lucius instantly dropped to his knees to kiss the hem of the master's garment, and felt a surge of humiliation at doing so in front of a non-Death Eater, which irritated him on top of it. Quickly he got to his feet. Voldemort, sensing his shame, smiled inwardly.

"My lord, I've brought Severus Snape as we discussed."

Bellatrix had her face so close to the boy it looked like she was kissing him. She tilted her head and prowled around him ever so slowly, observing him from every angle, occasionally pursing her lips, whether to indicate disapproval, Lucius couldn't tell. Severus stared straight ahead, seemingly ignoring her presence. Voldemort waved them away from the hearth; Lucius took a few steps to the side, dragging Severus with him, which seemed to nettle Bella, who'd lost her new toy.

It was Voldemort's turn to study the boy. Much like Bella, he strolled around Severus in silence as he peered at him, searching for signs of weakness. Finding none, he grasped Severus' head in his hands, aligned their eyes, and forced himself into the youth's mind. Severus' automatic instinct to block the intrusion was overridden by Lucius' earlier warning. He allowed the assault without a whimper, though it shamed and pained him to permit access to such private thoughts and memories. He felt violated on levels he didn't know existed.

At last the man stepped a few paces back. "Why are you here?"

"To become your follower, sir," answered Severus. Did his voice quake a bit?

"How trite," murmured Voldemort. "I'd expected more from one of your intellect."

"Master, he—"

"Lucius, did I address you? I confess, I don't recall doing so."

"No, my lord." Lucius clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard. If he wasn't satisfied with Severus, Lucius would pay the price.

Voldemort turned to Severus again. "I ask again, young Snape, why are you here?"

Severus hesitated. Lucius had given him the common answers to the questions the dark lord typically asked. If the responses were acceptable from others, why were they inadequate from _him_? He decided to simply tell the truth.

"I wish to become a Death Eater, sir," he said finally. As he continued, his voice rose in volume and fury. "I want the power to rule over the morons incapable of producing a truly civilized society wherein intelligence trumps politics. I desire nothing more than to see my enemies grovel at my feet as I hold their very lives in my hand! I want _justice_!"

The slight smile playing on Voldemort's thin lips told Lucius all he needed to know even before the man spoke. "Well said, Severus. Your memories tell me you have quite a few enemies you'd like to wreak vengeance on. With the power of Lord Voldemort behind you, perhaps you'll be able to satisfy your desires."

From nowhere the dark lord's wand was in his hand. "Always remember that my desires supercede yours. If I choose to grace you with a favor, you are extremely fortunate. Now tell me, what have you to offer _me_?"

"I'm a potions master, sir. Whatever you need, I can make."

Voldemort's smile turned to a scoff. "Seventeen, are you? And a potions master?"

Bellatrix joined in his laughter with her high cackle. "The little boy thinks he's a big wizard!"

Severus' eyes shot daggers at her. "I'm not lying!"

As quickly as he'd begun, Voldemort stopped laughing. His own blood red eyes pierced Severus. "The boy is telling the truth, Bellatrix. I've seen it." His wand aimed at Severus and jerked down, forcing him to his knees. "Extend your left arm."

Severus sucked in an excited yet panicked breath and did as he was bid. The tip of the evil wizard's wand touched his skin and he screamed as he'd never done before from pain. Until now, he'd never experienced such agony, not even when he'd been gored. Shortly the throbbing subsided and he gazed up at the master.

"Thank you, my lord," he whispered.

"Lucius, you've done well. First you brought me a most loyal follower, our dear Bellatrix." She smirked at the mention of her name. "Now you bring me a potions master. I'm pleased."

Trying very hard to suppress the expression of gratitude and relief, Lucius merely bowed toward the man. "My greatest desire is to please you, master."

Voldemort acknowledged his response with a slight inclination of his head. Lucius was loyal, he would prove quite useful in the future, but as to whether he placed his master's desires above all was a point of contention. Nonetheless, he was working toward Voldemort's goal; the rest was irrelevant.

"Severus, you may approach."

Severus crawled forward on his knees, bent down, and kissed Voldemort's clothing. It was done, he was a Death Eater! When he raised his head, he couldn't contain his smile. Looking at him through the flickering light of the torches, Lucius could barely contain his sorrow.


	14. Chapter 14

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fourteen

He'd always had greasy hair. From the time Severus was a toddler, his mother had complained about it; she'd wash it, only to find it stringy by the next morning. The teenage years had been less than kind, what with adolescent oil glands multiplying like rabbits in an enclosed pen. Severus glanced at his reflection in the mirror as he lamented the greasy strands he'd washed not two hours ago framing his pale face. It was useless—completely, hopelessly useless! It was the first day of class of his last year at Hogwarts, he'd hoped to make a good impression on Lily. So much for that!

His second-hand Potions book sat on his bed, taunting him. With the money Lucius had been paying him since April of last term, he could have afforded new books and robes, had he not given the bulk of it to his parents for paying overdue bills and buying luxuries like new clothing for the twins instead of hand-me-downs. He didn't regret his contribution to the family, it made him quite proud, as a matter of fact. If that meant looking shabby himself, so be it. It wasn't as if he weren't used to it.

With a deflated shrug, he picked up the book and headed out to class. Why he even bothered to attend was a mystery to him, since even in this most advanced class the potions were absurdly simple. Then again, Slughorn graded on attendance, too, not just capability. Severus smirked. If the professor didn't give the rest of the students free credit for showing up, they'd all receive the Troll level marks they deserved.

He strode into the Potions room and stopped cold. James Potter! Next to Lily, of course. Severus gritted his teeth and walked up to his place. "Apparently they let anyone buy their way into this class," he griped to the Slytherin girl next to him.

The girl swiveled her head to look where Severus was staring. "Yeah, I can't imagine that Gryffin-_dork_ earning a high enough mark to be in here."

"I guess if you have money, you don't need brains," Severus agreed.

His partner giggled. "You're so funny, Severus."

Funny? Severus raised his eyebrows, then furrowed his brow. He'd been called a plethora of things in his life, but never _funny_. Funny _looking_, maybe. Whatever, he didn't have time to wonder what she meant, class was starting.

All was going well, Severus had completed and bottled his brew before class hit the midway point, and he was looking forward to kicking back and glowering at the golden couple across the aisle. His comrade had other ideas, much more annoying ones, like idle chitchat.

"What did you do this summer, Severus?" she asked.

Severus mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?"

"I said, I almost got killed by an intruder," he replied clearly, staring past her at that despicably messy head of James Potter. How dare that oaf ever make fun of Severus' hair when his own was so outlandish? And the way Lily was ignoring him as if he weren't on the same planet! The wench!

"Oh, no! Are you alright?"

"Yes, Glenna. It's astonishing what master healers and two months' time can do," he said, still not glancing her way. _Oh, lean over and brush against her chest, you pervert_, he seethed as he watched James do exactly that.

"What happened to the intruder? Did the aurors catch him?" Glenna persisted.

Reluctantly Snape turned to face her. "He was a Muggle, and he's dead. Look at your potion! You forgot to add the toad wart!"

"Dead!" the girl echoed. Suddenly her voice hushed to a whisper at the sight of everyone in the vicinity gawking their way. "Did…did _you_ kill him?"

Severus shoved her aside, crushed the dried wart with his palm, and scooped it into the pot. Immediately the potion turned deep purple with a slick oiliness on top. "Just barely salvaged that," he mumbled.

"Severus!" Glenna whispered urgently, poking him in the side. "Did you?"

"What if I did?" he whispered back defiantly.

The girl's green eyes widened not with shock, but with approval. She smiled and chewed her lip self-consciously as she edged closer to him. "I think it's wonderful. Wizards shouldn't have to put up with Muggles."

"I didn't exactly kill him on purpose," Severus admitted in a low tone. He didn't like to think about it, let alone talk about it. The fact that the dark lord had seen it and brought it up was sickening enough. The master had been—as Lucius put it—quite lavish in his praise of the event, unfocused magic or not, but he'd still rather forget about the whole incident.

"Severus, what are you doing tonight?"

"Studying," he retorted as if she were an idiot. "What do you think?" Once more he added an ingredient to her cauldron and gave it three precise stirs counterclockwise. "Your potion is coming along dismally, Glenna. Perhaps you ought to exert some of your energy toward your own classes."

"You're doing a wonderful job," she cooed at him.

"I'm not doing your work for you." He sat back on his stool, crossed his arms, and returned to scowling at Potter and Evans.

Glenna sighed heavily, tossed her auburn hair back, and proceeded with her chore, every so often stealing glances at Severus, then past him at the Evans bitch. She snickered to herself as she envisioned what a 'shame' it would be if something happened to the redheaded mudblood.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius stood silently in the doorway to the music room, listening to Narcissa play the piano as he studied her lithe form swaying with the intensity of the piece. She looked so lovely in her pale blue robes he'd bought her for Christmas—almost as nice as she looked _out_ of them. He chuckled softly. He could watch her all day, the way the curves of her body filled her clothes in quite the right way, her tiny frown of concentration; her sheer beauty enthralled him.

Narcissa glanced up and caught sight of him over the piano. She stopped playing and waved a hand for him to come in. He stepped toward her smiling, or leering as the case may be, hoping she'd play a tune on_ him_. The sight of his father relaxing in a chair off to the side brought his fantasies to a screaming halt.

"Father, I—I didn't know you were in here," he stammered like a child.

"Evidently," Abraxas drawled. He tried to muffle a snicker and looked away.

Lucius' face burned red and his hand flew down to cover his crotch. His green silk robes did a poor job of hiding the excitement and passion he felt as his licentious daydreams struck him. "I was just—she—"

"She's your wife, Lucius, there's no need to explain." Abraxas was suddenly busy conducting a careful inspection of his fingernails.

"Would you two please refrain from talking about me like I'm not here?" Narcissa asked sweetly. "Honey, come play with me."

Another wave of scarlet rushed over Lucius' face, sending his father into a rare fit of hearty laughter. "Go on, Lucius, your wife wants to play with you." He guffawed so hard he actually snorted.

"What's so funny?" demanded Narcissa. From her vantage point, she'd been unable to witness her husband's inopportune arousal.

"Nothing, dear." Lucius cast a scowl at his father, then came around to sit on the bench beside her.

Abraxas, elbow propped on the arm of the chair and forehead resting on his fingertips, steadfastly kept his eyes down and murmured, "My apologies, Narcissa. Please do continue."

Together husband and wife positioned their hands over the keyboard. Narcissa whispered something to him, he nodded, and the pair began a hauntingly slow rendition of _Fur__ Elise_. Lucius had no need of watching the keys or a music sheet; his eyes danced over Narcissa's countenance while he played. Sensing his adoration, she peered over at him and smirked. When they'd completed the work, Lucius launched immediately into a lively_ Marriage __of__ Figaro_, with Narcissa easily keeping pace. After the music ended, Abraxas clapped in genuine admiration.

"Excellent! It's good to see those years of piano lessons weren't wasted on you, son."

"I took all the lessons you paid for to heart, Father," said Lucius smoothly. "Father kept me very busy as a boy, Narcissa—piano, ballroom dancing, horseback riding, Quidditch, tutoring sessions. It's a wonder I had time for anything else."

"A Malfoy must be well rounded," Abraxas defended himself. "Besides, giving you free time was asking for trouble."

Narcissa leaned over against Lucius and squeezed his thigh. "I do believe you were a mischievous child." At his sudden tensing, she said, "Don't be upset, we're only teasing."

"I have to go," he answered in the telltale deadpan voice. His gray eyes swept over her as he stood up, bent over, and kissed her. "I love you."

"It's him, isn't it? The dark wizard," said Abraxas.

"Yes, Father. I can't dawdle or he'll…" He hesitated to tell the whole truth with Narcissa here, that he'd likely be subjected to the Cruciatus again. "He'll be angry."

Abraxas merely nodded. There was no point in making his son's life more miserable on the end by denigrating the evil bastard when there was nothing Lucius could do except respond to his call. He already knew the torture Lucius had suffered to date, he didn't plan to add to it.

"Be careful, son."

Lucius attempted a grin that came off as a grimace. "I'll do my best." He extended his hand with a silent _accio_ command, summoning his robes and mask.

"Don't put them on in here," Narcissa pleaded softly. "I don't like to see you that way."

"I love you," he said again, walked out to the foyer, donned his disguise, and was gone.

In the distressed hush following his departure, Abraxas cast a pitying glance at his daughter-in-law, who sat forlornly at the piano, head down. While he worried about his son, his heart ached for her, the reason for and victim of Lucius' decision to join those wicked Death Eaters. He got up, made his way to the bench, and eased himself down beside her.

"I'm no stranger to lessons myself," he said, trying to be chipper. "Shall we?"

Narcissa's head lifted, turned to him, and graced him with a surprised smile. "Indeed we shall."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The farmhouse was quiet, as always, when Lucius drew near. Not knowing whether anyone else had been summoned, he didn't bother to wait around outside. Upon entering, he almost wished he'd waited. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Dolohov, and several masked Death Eaters huddled around a kitchen table that wobbled every time one of them touched it. Quick inspection showed one leg to be broken off near the floor.

"None of you could fix that?" Lucius drawled in feigned shock, with a sneer they unfortunately missed due to his mask. "_Reparo_," he said, lazily waving his wand. The leg snapped into place, whole once more.

The group paused their chatter to stare at him. It took only a moment for Bella to regain her composure. "Show off all you want, blondie, it's just a stupid table. What's on it is the important thing."

Lucius waved his wand to remove his disguise, then he cautiously approached to see what was fascinating them all. They moved aside to let him into the circle. On the table were two large moving photos, men who strongly resembled one another. It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce why they were here.

In case any doubt remained, Bella cackled, "The master has a mission for us! It's time for these Order of the Phoenix prats to go down!"

"If that's what the master wants," Lucius uttered without a twinge of facial expression.

"It is what I want," said Voldemort as he strolled casually in from the adjoining room. He halted amid the cries of 'master' and 'my lord' to permit the Death Eaters to line up to perform their duty. Bella elbowed her way to the front, threw herself down, and repeatedly kissed the hem of his garment.

"My lord, pick me," she begged as she knelt up, eyes sparkling with bloodlust bordering on madness.

"Let's not be greedy, Bellatrix," he admonished, secretly pleased with her enthusiasm. He'd reward her later for that, in their own _special_ way. "Move aside now."

Resentfully she did as ordered, though the idea of hexing several of her companions to keep them out of the running crossed her mind. The rest completed their groveling and stood up in a semi-circle around Lord Voldemort. It bothered Lucius that he couldn't be certain if one of the hooded figures was Severus. He thought it unlikely, since Severus would have greeted him—at least he assumed so. He didn't dare call out the name.

"Fabian Prewett and Gideon Prewett," Voldemort spat out with a gesture toward the pictures on the table. "Blood traitors, brothers, brothers-in-arms against us, forever meddling! It's time to bring their presumptuous lives to a fitting end."

The Death Eaters roared their approval, Lucius right along with them. Even if he didn't care to do away with them himself, blood traitors had no place in the wizarding world. They tainted it for the loyal, they gave jobs and rights to mudbloods, even expected purebloods to honor their ridiculous ideas of Muggle equality! It was sickening.

"Lucius," Voldemort purred like a cat which had caught a snake in its mouth, the 's' drawing out.

This wasn't good, it couldn't be good. Lucius straightened, ostensibly in anticipation.

"As a reward for bringing me another follower, you will have the privilege of leading the squad. You may choose four Death Eaters to accompany you."

A buzz of disappointed discontent ran through the group.

"Do I detect dissention?" Voldemort said softly. "Is there one who thinks me mistaken in appointing whomever I desire?"

"No, my lord," they answered almost in unison.

One of the masked figures added tentatively, "It's just that we all hoped to go…" The others nodded and groused their agreement.

"Five should be more than sufficient," Voldemort said tightly. The voices ceased instantly.

"You do me a great honor, master," Lucius murmured, eyes down. _Oh, God, this can't__ be happening_! He'd agreed in principle, but—to lead the charge? His sole consolation consisted in knowing he could select four to go with him, to perform the actual murder. "Will Severus be one of the five?"

"Snape? The boy?" Voldemort started to laugh, prompting the flunkies to join in. "He may have killed once, accidentally. It hardly makes him ready to take on experienced adult wizards. No, he remains at Hogwarts for now. Death Eaters, remove your masks so Malfoy can see your faces."

One by one Lucius regarded them: Rookwood, Yaxley, the junior Avery, Travers, Macnair, and a tall man he didn't know…but he'd seen him once, in the crystal ball, had seen him murdering Narcissa's fiancé. His skin crawled to remember it.

In addition to the ones he'd recognized upon entering the house, that made ten from which to choose. Bellatrix had fixed him with a pick-me-or-I'll-make-your-life-a-living-hell look, Rodolphus seemed almost bored, the rest exuded varying degrees of eagerness. Rapid cogitation on his part assured him that it was in his best interest to select those who could get the job done without requiring his direct participation, thereby pleasing the master and keeping him from becoming a murderer. It was a fine line he despised walking.

"Bellatrix," Lucius said at last. She leaped in the air with a howl of glee and continued to hop up and down in a distracting fashion. "Dolohov, Travers, and Macnair."

The hatchet-faced Yaxley glowered at him. "Any reason you didn't choose me, boy?"

Lucius returned the hate-filled glare. When he'd been a mere seventeen, this scoundrel had petitioned the master for permission to molest Lucius. Lord Voldemort had decided on a dueling tournament which, if Yaxley won, would grant him one-time access to the boy. Only Bella's superior dueling skills had saved the young Lucius, who had never forgotten or forgiven the episode.

"We're going to eliminate them, not rape them," Lucius snapped, his eyes set like flint.

A number of the Death Eaters smirked, recalling the incident. Bella laughed out loud. "He's got your number, Yaxley!"

The affronted man drew his wand; Bella whipped hers out and took a step in his direction. "Anytime, Yaxley," she cooed, praying fervently he'd take the bait. "Don't forget what I did to you last time."

"Enough!" Voldemort barked. "You five be on your way. Report back here when your duty is complete."

The death squad bowed to the master and filed outside, masks and robes disguising their features. They slowly drifted across the field, all but one of them excited to be chosen for this task, a task designated by the master himself. Freelance work, while always appreciated, may or may not garner the expected rewards, while to succeed at an appointed undertaking could only yield praise and reward. Lucius, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest, cleared his throat and put on his self-confident, authoritative voice.

"At the risk of sounding foolish, does anyone have an idea where we are to find these Prewetts? I saw no indication on the photos, nor did the dark lord make mention."

Apparently none of the others had thought that far ahead. They halted and looked around at one another in obvious bewilderment. Lucius heaved a frustrated sigh. It was bad enough to be in charge of murdering those wizards; to have to search for them first was blatantly outrageous.

"Bella, Dolohov—any ideas?" The other members of the team didn't appear to mind being excluded from of this particular activity.

"We don't know where the Order of the Phoenix headquarters is," Dolohov said.

"Bravo. One more thing we _don't_ know," replied Lucius nastily.

"I think they're in London," offered Bella.

"Oh, good. Maybe if we walk really fast we can canvass the entire city in a _month or __two_!" Lucius fumed. "The master will absolutely love us for that!"

"Sarcasm isn't going to find them," said Dolohov in a less than helpful manner.

Helpful or not, he was right. As leader of the group, it was Lucius' responsibility to come up with a plan. They could (A) ask Lord Voldemort if he happened to know their preys' location and risk severe punishment on general principles, (B) stumble around like idiots trying to find the location, and risk severe punishment for not finding it, (C) stumble around like idiots, accidentally find the location, and complete the mission—which seemed highly implausible, or (D) contact someone who might know where to find the Prewett brothers, complete the mission, and receive accolades instead of death for failure. For obvious reasons, (D) seemed the best choice. The nagging question: who to ask? Father might know, he knew loads of people…but Lucius could not—_would not_—involve him in this.

Travers interrupted his ruminations. "Bella, aren't the Blacks and Prewetts related somehow?"

Indignant, she lunged at the man with a volley of shrieked curses, claws bared, ready to tear him apart without aid of a wand. The two were tussling when Lucius noticed Augustus Rookwood sauntering across the field toward them. Lucius hissed an order for them to knock it off, then faced Rookwood, who wore an extremely smug expression.

"Rookwood," he said simply.

"Malfoy. We've been betting on how long it would take you to realize you didn't know where you were going." He sneered and let out a harsh laugh. "I won. I said you were too proud to come back and ask."

Unable to completely refute his statement, Lucius drawled, "And did you bring said address with you?"

Rookwood held out a crumpled piece of parchment. Lucius took it and read the address, then passed it to Dolohov, who likewise passed it to Macnair. A sudden, discomforting thought struck Lucius.

"Is the master watching us?"

"You're still alive and not squirming under the Cruciatus. What do you think?" Rookwood laughed again. "Don't worry, though, I'm sure Yaxley will tell him at the first opportunity."

Bella, who'd finally disentangled her fingers from Travers' hair after having ripped his hood off, strode over, snatched the paper from Macnair, then faced Rookwood with her own wicked brand of sneer. In a sneering contest, she would definitely have been victorious.

"You can tell that troglodyte from me that if he intends to cause trouble, he'd best prepare for war. I don't easily forgive."

Lucius wisely said nothing.

Macnair echoed, "Troglodyte?" No one bothered to explain it to him.

Rookwood shrugged as he prepared to return to the farmhouse. He didn't give a rat's rear end whether Yaxley tattled or whether the master punished them or not. "I'll tell Yaxley what you said," he promised as he turned away. Now another good duel between those two—_that_ he'd like to see!

Lucius gathered the squad around him, repeated the address, and together they Disapparated. Outside a small cottage in a sparsely populated area they reappeared. The frightful shrieks from a Muggle watching them materialize in all their Death Eater glory gave them a twisted thrill, although when Dolohov raised his wand to attack the fleeing woman, Lucius slapped it down.

"We have business here," he clipped. If he'd wondered how to go about drawing the Prewetts out, he needn't have bothered. The Muggle's screams had brought the heroic men rushing to her aid—and straight into the Death Eaters.

As one, Fabian and Gideon raised their wands just in time to defend against four green curses hurtled their way. They deflected them and shot back hexes of their own, one of which rebounded off Dolohov's_ protego_ and slammed into Macnair, who collapsed in a heap not a meter from Lucius.

When Travers' eye caught Lucius, the latter threw a red stream at Fabian, which he easily pushed aside. Compelled to at least pretend to engage in battle lest his own comrades report him to Voldemort, Lucius cast one after another petty charms incapable of actual harm, though unless they connected no one would know the difference. Colors aside, one curse resembled another flying from the end of a wand.

Except bats! Damn it, one of the Prewetts let loose a storm of bats on them! A horde of them flew directly at Lucius, blocking his view; an instant later a horrifically hard _stupefy_ tore into his chest, throwing him onto his back, slapping his head on the pavement. He lay still.

Above him the battle raged on, with Bellatrix growing more intense, her hexes flying from the wand as fast as she could think them up which, truth be told, was incredibly fast. No slouch himself, Dolohov ducked and weaved, deflected and cursed with the best of them. Together they cornered Fabian, leaving Travers to take on Gideon. Bella threw an _expelliarmus_ half a second before Dolohov cast the killing curse; in deflecting Bella's hex, Fabian lost the time advantage to avoid Dolohov's, and the _avada kedavra_ struck him squarely in the chest. He dropped to the ground.

Travers, meanwhile, had gained no ground with Gideon until Macnair staggered up to take some of the focus off him. With the two Death Eaters flinging charms his way, Gideon had his hands full. When Dolohov and Bella joined in, he succumbed shortly, unable to defend against all of them. The credit for his death went either to Travers or Macnair, who stood arguing over his corpse as to whose curse hit first.

Dolohov, noticing the disturbingly motionless body of his companion, went over to Lucius and knelt down while Bella shot a triumphant skull into the air. "Lucius," he muttered, shaking him. He felt the man's throat for a pulse. To the group he said, "Come on, we have to get out of here, the aurors will arrive soon!" He took hold of Lucius and Disapparated.

The Death Eaters returned to the farmhouse in elation—except Lucius, who was still unconscious and carried by Travers and Macnair. They'd argued that levitation was simpler, but it seemed so impersonal to Dolohov, who'd taken control of the situation. Besides, as long as he wasn't the one doing the labor, he didn't mind delegating it out. They deposited their incapacitated leader on the floor, to be crowded around by the Death Eaters left behind earlier, all jostling for position to see if he was dead or how badly hurt.

"Where's Bella?" asked Dolohov, looking around.

The tall man with a goatee pointed in toward the fireplace, indicating that she'd gone to fetch the master. While the death squad waited for him to make his appearance, they regaled the others with their take on what occurred, with each man butting in to correct or contradict what another was saying, making the room quite cacophonous.

"Bloody f—king hell," moaned a voice from the floor.

Those nearest Lucius gazed down at him with only mild curiosity; once they'd ascertained he wasn't dead, they'd lost interest. Eventually all eyes were on him as he struggled to sit up, clutching his aching chest and the back of his head at once. He'd never known a _stupefy_ could hurt so badly!

"How did I get here?" His hood had been removed and he felt something warm and sticky in his hair. He hoped it was only blood.

"I brought you," Dolohov replied. "You got hit pretty hard."

"And the Prewetts…"

"Dead," he answered blithely, grinning. "I got one, Macnair got the other."

"I got the other!" Travers protested, which reignited the argument anew.

Lord Voldemort's entrance silenced them all. Even when he was in a spectacular mood, like now, he was utterly intimidating. "Congratulations, my friends," he said in his high, smooth voice, his use of 'friends' rather disingenuous, as if they might be fooled into believing that's what they really were. "You have successfully rid your master of a loathsome pair, for which you shall be rewarded."

The dark lord's red eyes flicked over to Lucius, who fumbled to stand up, only to find himself pitching over from dizziness. He tried again with identical results. A few snickers from his so-called comrades didn't make the situation any better.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I seem unable to stand," Lucius mumbled shamefacedly.

"He got _stupefied_, master," Dolohov explained. "Cracked his head, knocked him out."

"The bats," Lucius protested from a kneeling opposition. "I couldn't see."

To Lucius' great shock, Dolohov went on, "Those bats all flew right at him, my lord, there was no avoiding them. The curse hit a second later, but up to that point he was doing great."

Was he hallucinating? Was Dolohov defending him…and complimenting him? Why? Death Eaters, like most Slytherins, rarely aided anyone unless it would benefit _them_. The pounding rush of blood in his ears refused to let him think clearly. Even Bella, glued to Voldemort's arm, seemed to have nothing disparaging to say. Highly unusual. He had to exert all the control he could muster to keep his face unreadable.

Voldemort continued to study Lucius, then said curtly, "Well done, Malfoy. Perhaps it would behoove you to return home. Your father is a healer, is he not?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Pity you'll miss the celebration."

"Forgive me, master," he intoned from habit. He wanted nothing more than to be gone from here. The dark lord waved him off, and only too happy to comply, he staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the table. Macnair offered his shoulder to help him outside, from where he Disapparated.

To the house elf greeting him at the manor door he ordered, "Get my father, tell him I'm injured." Then he dropped to his knees and tipped over onto the cold marble floor.

(Author's note: I'm posting a oneshot--humor--of Severus and Lucius . It's called 'Imposters'. Please check it out and tell me what you think.)


	15. Chapter 15

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifteen

**Dear Anonymous reviewer** (and anyone else who may have wondered, regarding last chapter): If it were me, I'd have definitely shot the _avada kedavra_ right off the bat, which is what the 4 green jets were intended to be. (Lucius abstained from fighting until he noticed Travers watching him.) Apparently I suffered under the delusion that the _a.k_. can be blocked; upon re-reading book 4, I discovered my error. _Mea culpa_. Therefore, I must humbly revise that part of the story. A-hem (throat clearing):

"As one, Fabian and Gideon raised their wands, just in time to detect four green curses hurtled their way. Scattering in opposite directions with the reflexes of a jaguar, they narrowly avoided the deadly curses, then shot back hexes of their own…" (From here, the story picks up as usual—keep in mind people like Bella and Dolohov, and probably the others, enjoy tormenting their prey; when the Prewetts fight back, the Death Eaters start throwing other spells to play with them like a cat with a mouse.)

To you and all my readers, thank you for reading, reviewing, and enjoying the story, and also for not being afraid to question me or call me on details when necessary. Anonymous, since you like Lucius, have you read _The Beginnings of a Death Eater_? It's all about him.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas Apparated into the foyer to the sight of his son laboring to push himself to his hands and knees while vomiting blood. He hurried over, took Lucius by the shoulders, and lifted him cautiously.

"Son of a bitch!" he hissed. Already his wand was in his hand scourgifying the matted red mess all over the back of the young man's head.

If Lucius could have spoken between heaves, he would have asked his father not to call him names, particularly those he'd forbidden his son to use. He spit out a mouthful of blood before it occurred to him Abraxas hadn't directed the comment to anyone specifically, he'd been _swearing_. He didn't do much of that now that Lucius' school days—also known as the terrible teen years—had ended.

Probing the gash on the back of Lucius' head, Abraxas deftly ran his wand along it, sealing it neatly. The deep bruise on his scalp, too, was easily dealt with; it was the brain bruising and swelling he worried about. While a concussion may cause vomiting, it would _not_ cause Lucius to vomit _blood_.

"Lucius, can you tell me what happened?" the man asked evenly.

With one hand the young man lightly tapped at his own chest. "_Stupefied_," he croaked, then was overtaken with another bout of retching.

Despite the putrid, nasty mess, Abraxas knelt in front of his son, forced him up to his knees, and with a single vicious jerk he tore off the front of his robes, exposing his chest. Radiating from his pale skin, just below and encompassing the ribcage, was a monstrous bruise, in the center of which was a stark scarlet crescent wound. His suspicions confirmed, the expression on Abraxas' face registered a mingling of horror and fury. For a moment bordering on eternity, he didn't know what to do, he felt completely, incontrovertibly helpless.

_Control, Malfoy_, Abraxas ordered himself. _Think_._You've seen this before, in one of__ your books. Think. What did it say to do_? He couldn't think, his mind was racing in twelve directions at once, most of them nonsensical or approaching hysteria. For any other patient, he could be calm, he had no personal stake in it, but this was Lucius! _Malfoys do not become __hysterical_! That must be a new rule. He was intimately acquainted with the rest… _Dammit,__Malfoy, get a grip! Your son needs you_!

For lack of knowing what else to do, he charmed Lucius with an anti-vomiting spell. As for the brain swelling, he rattled off several more charms in quick succession. The concussion no longer worried him: the danger lay in front of him in the form of a spreading purple contusion that he had no idea how to stop. What he_ did_ know was that if it weren't halted soon, the damage to Lucius' organs would be fatal.

With his wand shaking in his hand and Lucius leaning heavily on his shoulder, he aimed at the middle of the discoloration and began to chant an ancient countercharm against a broad range of evil hexes, then performed organ replenishing spells for the heart, lungs, liver, and stomach. Finally, mentally exhausted by the sheer number of charms, he said one to encompass the rest of the organs in the vicinity. It was only temporary, anyway. This so-called _stupefy_ hadn't finished its work.

"Lie down, son." Abraxas helped him down. He waved his wand to scourgify the area and to bring a thick blanket down on the young man.

"Father, what is it?" asked Lucius weakly.

"I need to go to my library to find a book," he answered. "I don't think you should move, it will spread the poison faster."

"Poison? There was no—"

"Lucius, trust me!" Abraxas shouted for the house elf hiding behind the coat rack to fetch Narcissa to her husband, then he Disapparated.

The man Apparated in the library next to the section reserved for Dark Arts—a section which, at the moment, appeared to be a multitude of tomes on home decorating. A flick of his wand revealed their true titles, and he rapidly searched until he came to one whose title had long been rubbed away. With as much calm as he could gather, he leafed through until he came to the picture: a crescent wound surrounded by a bruise.

_Causa Meschever_

_Etymology__: to cause to come to grief_

_Strength__: usually fatal, particularly if delivered by a skilled wizard_

Abraxas caught his breath and read on.

_Signs__: see picture above; blood-vomiting; general weakness; bruise continues to expand along with destruction of organs_

_Curative__: phoenix tears; unicorn blood; bezoar followed immediately by__Wenes-nom Haldan__. Must be administered within six hours. No other known remedies._

Phoenix tears? Where in God's name was he going to get those? And unicorn blood being every bit as rare, and illegal to boot, he may as well ask for moon dust! A bezoar, _that_ he had…but not the potion. Who stocked such a potion? And if any shop did, it was undoubtedly closed at this hour. Even a hospital was a long shot, as this curse was far from ordinary. Nevertheless, he Apparated to his study to dash off letters to every healer, shop, and hospital within two hours flight and sent them off with his many owls from the Malfoy rookery.

He hurried back to the library to find the formula in one of his potions books. There it was, page eighty-three of _Healing Draughts_. It seemed so simple on paper, so unthreatening. He could make it with no trouble—if he had the unusual and rare ingredients necessary, which he didn't! Nobody did! He sucked in a sob. Lucius was going to die while he sat here poring over a stupid, useless book! In a fit of despair he flung the book across the room. It struck the wall, fell to the thick rug, and closed itself.

_Control yourself, Abraxas_! This time the harsh command took the voice of his own father, prompting him to automatically sit up straight, thrust out his chin, and wait for the next order…or the first blow. _You are a Malfoy. You do what needs to be done_! Isn't that what had been pounded into him for so many years growing up?

Abraxas shook his head, trying to clear it. What was the matter with him? He was a Malfoy, he was not prone to panic regardless of the situation, and he sure as hell would not knuckle under to this threat. Lucius needed his help and he would get it, if that meant selling his soul to the devil himself!

He must think clearly. The owls had gone out to anyone remotely capable of aid. All he could do was wait for their replies. There was nothing else—_Slughorn_! The name came roaring into his mind with a surge of hope. While not close by any stretch of the imagination, they knew each other and were cordial. Slughorn was a potions master, and a fastidious collector of rare herbs; if _anyone_ stocked the necessary ingredients, he would, and Hogwarts was open! Again he raced to his study, jotted a quick note with the barest details, and attached it to yet another owl.

_Professor Slughorn,_

_Need cure for __causa meschever_

_Can you help? Urgent!_

_Abraxas Malfoy_

"Professor Slughorn at Hogwarts," he said. His voice sounded gritty to his ears. Now it was time to go down and check on his son.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Passing by the younger students' quarters on the way to his own after an evening of studying, Severus heard the sounds of talking in the community bathroom. Ordinarily he'd have thought nothing of it, except it was late and the little brats ought to be in bed. Where was Professor Slughorn or one of the Prefects when they were needed? He twisted his mouth at the notion that _his_ class had been expected to follow the rules.

Nonetheless, he went on by, then halted in his tracks. One of the boys was stuttering, but it didn't sound like that timid second year kid…Quirrell. Then laughter of more than one person. That did it! His responsibility or no, he'd not put up with a Marauder-like gang forming in his own House! Taking a step backward, he thrust open the door.

To his surprise, Quirrell was indeed there, pinned against the wall by a trio of third years who crowded menacingly about. The one in the middle was leaning in close to Quirrell.

"D-d-do w-w-we s-s-scare y-y-you?" he taunted with a heinous sneer, then laughed at the expression of terror on his captive. His friends howled along with him.

In two long strides Severus crossed the room, snatched the boy by the hair, and lifted him onto his tiptoes. The boy screeched in pain and alarm while his friends rapidly backed away. A wave of Severus' wand slammed the door shut; another cast a silencing charm for absolute privacy.

"Barty Crouch," Severus hissed, eyes narrowing. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just having fun," the boy squealed, thrashing in Severus' firm grip. "Let me go!"

"Why should I? Maybe I'd like to have some fun, too." Severus put his face up so close it nearly brushed the other boy. In a malevolently cold tone he uttered, "You have no idea how many ways there are to have fun with sadistic little bastards like you. Would you like to find out?"

Without waiting for an answer, and ignoring Barty's plaintive 'no' when it came, Severus tossed him backward, his wand trained right at him. Using only non-verbal spells lest the children learn something best not known at their age, Severus whirled the wand around, compelling the whimpering Crouch to dance like a wooden, arrhythmic ballerina, complete with curtsy when he finished. Next, smiling evilly, he lined up the gaping offenders and with a quick swish cast a charm to make the boys take turns kissing one another—more aptly smashing their faces against one another repeatedly, but as it resembled kissing, Severus thought it humorous anyway. When he grew bored of it and the boys sported bloody noses from the contact, he slammed them against the wall one at a time, fastening them there with invisible bonds. Over each boy he cast an individual silencing charm, then removed the one placed on the room.

"That spell will wear off in an hour or two, then you can go to bed," he said simply. "If I ever catch you picking on this kid again, I'll fix it so you talk like him for the rest of your pathetic, bullying lives."

Pushing Quirrell ahead of him, Severus left the bathroom and started off toward his own room once more. Behind him, the second year student called out to him.

"M-Mr. S-S-Snape!"

Severus sighed and spun back around with his robes billowing in a bat-like fashion around him. He secretly loved it when they did that. "What?"

"Th-thank y-y-you."

The older boy nodded. "If they give you any more problem, let me know." He'd almost started off again before deciding to offer a bit of advice in his typically candid, less than tactful way. "You know, there are speech therapists in the Muggle world who help people overcome stuttering. I'm sure there are in the wizarding world, too. You should ask your parents to look into it."

Quirrell bobbed his head in agreement. Snape spun around and strode off, feeling rather good about himself. He'd thoroughly enjoyed putting those ruffians in their place. When he got to his room, he shrugged off his outer robes as he prepared for sleep, then beheld a small box laying in the middle of his bed.

To his roommates, who were sitting up chatting, he griped, "I told you to keep your crap off my bed."

The two boys looked his way. Nott spoke up. "That's not mine, it was there when I got here."

"It isn't mine, either," the other said.

Severus picked it up. It was a box of sweets. On the bottom of the box in neat block letters was written _To Severus, From Glenna_. He made a face and rolled his eyes. "Great."

His roommates, who'd scrupulously inspected the package in Severus' absence, burst out laughing. "Sev has a girlfriend!" Nott chortled.

"Hey, she's not bad," said the other. "Kinda pretty, even. I don't know what she sees in _him_!" He joined in Nott's laughter.

Now that was just insulting! Severus had never thought himself anything to look at, but he wasn't without his attributes. Drawing his thin body up to its full non-slouch height, he remarked haughtily, "Perhaps she values intelligence over a couple of apes who've scarcely learned to vocalize. Maybe she prefers not to associate with knuckle draggers when—"

"Hey!" interjected Nott. "I'm not an ape!" He tried to look hurt.

Severus raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I'm sorry. Do your kind like to be referred to as 'primates' now?"

Not entirely catching the joke, Nott scrunched his face into a semblance of a raisin while pondering it. After several seconds of intense deliberation, he decided it wasn't worth the headache.

"Anyway, are you gonna go out with her?" he asked.

"Where would I go?" asked Severus dryly in return. "The common room?"

"Take her to Hogsmeade on the next outing," suggested the other boy.

"I don't know," Severus responded noncommittally and laid back on his bed. For all he knew, Glenna was setting him up for another cruel prank, most likely to take place in front of as many witnesses as possible to maximize his humiliation. Hell, the candy was probably hexed or tainted, too. He rolled the box around in his hands, studying it. There was no way to tell without trying it or performing various difficult tests on it, and frankly he wasn't in the mood. He pitched it across the room, where it smacked Nott in the head.

"You guys can have it," he said.

The other boys greedily tore it open and dug in while Severus watched with mild interest. They weren't growing extra appendages or breaking out in boils, which was a good sign; better continue observation for a while in case they'd been charmed with a delaying spell. When, after thirty minutes, nothing notable had occurred, Severus turned his attention back to Glenna.

She'd sent him candy. Why would she do that? No girl—well, nobody _period_—had ever given him candy, or called him funny, or seemed remotely interested in him as a person. Except Lily, she used to care. Didn't take much to kill her affection, though, did it? One word spoken in furious shame. Yes, he'd done wrong, but she should forgive… He didn't want to dwell on it anymore, it was too painful.

He rolled over cradling his head on one arm as he listened to his roommates blather on with their incessant chatter. Didn't they ever get tired of spewing out every miniscule thought that found itself trapped in their minute brains?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Professor Slughorn had just decided to make one last round of the students before bed when the tapping at his window distracted him. Who would be sending an owl at this hour? One way to find out, he supposed. He trudged over to push open the window. He'd expected the bird to fly off after he retrieved the parchment, but it did not. It sat patiently staring at him in a most disconcerting way, waiting to carry back a reply.

He unfolded the paper and almost dropped it at the phrase staring him in the face: _causa__ meschever_. Someone Abraxas was treating had been hit with this curse? It must be, yet…well, this wasn't your garden variety spell by a long shot, nor was the cure. Phoenix tears sprang to mind immediately—Professor Dumbledore had a phoenix!

Slughorn's short-lived excitement faded instantly. The bird couldn't be made to cry on command, and from what he knew of Abraxas Malfoy's relationship with Dumbledore, there was no love lost, and certainly no loyalty. Fawkes wouldn't shed a tear for him either literally or figuratively. So much for that.

Waddling over to his desk, he dug through the stack of piled books to find his_ Lethal__ Spell Reversal Potions_, flipped to the correct page, and started reading. Every so often he made a small 'Hmm'. Some of these ingredients were so rare as to not exist as far as most people were concerned. Slughorn smiled to himself. He wasn't most people. In his packrat fashion, he habitually stockpiled every rare herb and potion ingredient known to wizardry. If he dipped into his private stash, he could make this potion in less than an hour.

He wrote a quick response, attached it to the owl, and headed for his lab.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus." A rough hand shook him by the shoulder. "Severus, wake up."

The youth awoke with a start, his heart pounding at the sight of Professor Slughorn leaning over him. "Yes, sir?"

"Come with me, hurry."

Severus got up shivering, realizing he'd fallen asleep on top of his covers, fully dressed. He followed the teacher out of his room and down the hall before asking, "Where are we going? Is something wrong?" Images of his family sprang into his mind.

"You have access to the Malfoy home, don't you, via the floo network?"

"Yes, sir. Why?"

"It's faster than leaving the grounds to Apparate or sending it by owl." They turned into his office and he shoved a vial of orange liquid into Severus' hand. The potion was still very warm. "There's an emergency, they need this potion immediately." A single push landed Severus in the fireplace.

An emergency? There was no time to question the professor further. He tossed the floo powder and moments later walked out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor. Abraxas Malfoy, pacing frantically in the sitting room, whirled at the sound. His tear-streaked face exuded unbounded relief at seeing the vial clasped in the youth's hand. Without a word he snatched it and took off at a run for the foyer with the saucer-eyed Severus on his heels.

Severus came to an abrupt halt and his stomach lurched into his throat when he spied the apparent emergency: a deathly pale Lucius lying next to the door covered in a blanket. Narcissa knelt beside him crying softly as she stroked his face and hair. She glanced up at the two with vacant eyes, as if not quite seeing them at all.

Abraxas took something from his pocket that Severus recognized as a bezoar, and in one smooth motion opened Lucius' mouth and popped it inside. He uncapped the vial of orange fluid, lifted Lucius' head, and poured it in bit by bit.

"Swallow," he whispered.

To Severus' astonishment, Lucius swallowed. He thought for certain by the look of him that he was dead or, barring that, nearly dead and certainly not capable of hearing or obeying. Three more swallows. An agonized groan. Severus flinched.

In painfully slow, mincing steps, Severus edged forward, biting his lower lip, staring steadily at the scene. "Mr. Malfoy," he murmured. "Is he alright?"

The man turned his head only a bit, then gave a weary nod. "He will be now, I think. Thank you for bringing the medicine, Severus." Abraxas pulled down the blanket revealing Lucius' bare, purple-mottled chest. It was too soon for it to go away, he knew that, but he had to look.

"Sir, what happened?"

"I wish I knew that myself," admitted the older man. For the first time since finding his son on the floor, he sat back himself, resting on his heels. God have mercy, he was worn out! "Between you and Lucius, you boys are killing me," he remarked.

"I'm sorry," said Severus, not knowing what else to say.

"Narcissa, talk to him," Abraxas encouraged her.

She'd finally stopped crying, that was good. She bent down to kiss her husband's cheek, then jerked her head up suddenly with a wild look. Her hand went to his face, then under the blanket to his body. "He's warm! Abraxas, he's warm!"

Needing no further incentive, Abraxas felt the young man's head. He _was_ warm, and not in the feverish way. Delicately, almost afraid of what he might see, he pulled back the blanket once more to peer at the offensive mark. Unless his sight was failing him, the bruise was beginning to lighten. He lowered his head to listen to the heartbeat, which had settled into a normal, steady rhythm. It was working, the cure was working!

With tears of gratitude welling in his eyes, Abraxas stood up to face Severus and extended a hand. "Thank you, Severus."

The boy took the proffered hand while he shook his head. "I didn't do anything, Mr. Malfoy. Professor Slughorn gave me the potion and sent me here. I'm only grateful it worked." His gaze drifted to Narcissa, who was cooing private nothings into Lucius' ear. He wanted to kneel down and talk to his friend, too, but this wasn't the time. Lucius needed his wife and father now, he could talk to Severus later.

"I should probably go. Is there anything I can do first?"

"No, son," said Abraxas.

_Son_? Severus' eyebrows shot up. Since when did Mr. Malfoy address a hated halfblood as _son_? In the entire month he'd spent at Malfoy Manor, he'd never been called anything except 'Severus' or 'boy'. Severus gave a light shake of his head. It was only the emotion of this experience, the exhaustion and fear for Lucius.

"Goodnight, sir." He cast another look down at Lucius. On a sudden impulse, he fell to one knee, took Lucius' hand in a crushing grip, and said, "Enough histrionics, Malfoy. Get your lazy arse up."

There was a low moan. Lucius, grinning ever so slightly, eyes fluttering open, muttered back, "You're a fine one to talk, Severus. Play with any pokers lately?"

Severus smiled broadly. Lucius was going to be just fine.


	16. Chapter 16

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixteen

As ordered, Lucius remained in bed the day following his near-death experience. He'd even obeyed the 'keep your paws off Narcissa' directive, but only because at first he'd been too weak to think about bedroom games; by morning he was definitely thinking about playing, although Narcissa had summarily shot him down with the dampening phrase 'Your father said no'.

So there he lay, bored to death…bad choice of words, he decided. Bored to tears, that was better. He felt fine except for a lingering weakness caused by blood loss from internal bleeding, but with his father's fortifying potions shoved down his throat by a medi-witch every hour on the hour, he couldn't imagine it would take more than another day to recover. He wished Narcissa would come back from wherever she'd gone off after keeping him company most of the day.

He was sitting up, his wand out, juggling articles from the nightstand, when Abraxas walked in. "Not another disgusting concoction," Lucius moaned. The objects fell in a heap on the bed.

"I see you're feeling much better. Complaining is usually a good sign," Abraxas replied. Sure enough, he produced another potion, a different one.

Lucius didn't wait to be told, he gulped down the liquid in one swallow; immediately he set to hacking like a cat with a furball caught in its throat. When at last he settled down he grumbled nastily, "Are you sure you're not trying to poison me?"

"Believe me, Lucius, if I wanted to poison you, I'd do better than that." He sat on the edge of the bed studying his son. "Tell me who did this, son."

"Did what? _Stupefied_ me?" he asked, looking very sincere.

"That was no _stupefy_! It was dark magic, intended to kill," his father hissed.

"Dark magic?" Lucius repeated stupidly, shaking his head in confusion. "But—no, they, wouldn't—" His mouth clamped shut.

"Wouldn't use that, you were going to say?" Abraxas prompted. "Who wouldn't?"

Lucius looked down at the bedcovers and shrugged.

Struggling to keep his voice under control, his father demanded again, "Who did this to you?"

"I can't tell you that!"

"Why not?" Abraxas shouted. "It was that bastard Voldemort, wasn't it?"

Blinking in surprise, Lucius replied, "No, sir. He didn't do anything to me."

"Then who are you trying to protect?"

"You," his son said quietly, ashamed to even raise his eyes. "I'm trying to protect you and Narcissa."

Abraxas reached into his robes, withdrew a copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and dropped it into Lucius' lap. On the front page was a picture of a small cottage; in the sky above hung a ferocious green skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. The headline read Death Eaters Murder Prewetts.

"Would it have anything to do with this?" he asked.

Aghast, Lucius stared at the picture as the snake wended its way through the skull over and over. His pale face drained of what little color it had.

Abraxas, who carefully observed his reaction, let out a disgusted snort and got up. "I guess that's answer enough. I can't believe my son has sunk to murdering purebloods." He took a step for the door.

"Father, wait!" Abraxas halted. "I was there, the dark lord ordered me to go along, but I didn't kill either one of them, I swear! One of them cursed me, I fell, and that's all I know."

"One of the Prewetts?" asked the older wizard skeptically.

"Yes."

"Since when do champions of mudbloods and Muggles resort to dark magic, a discipline they profess to despise?"

"Apparently they're a bunch of hypocrites," Lucius said.

"Maybe," his father agreed reluctantly.

It didn't fit. This Order of the Phoenix he'd read about, they claimed to stand for decency and for all of wizardry. They loathed dark magic, if one could believe their founder, Albus Dumbledore, who may be a lot of things Abraxas disagreed with, but a liar… Lucius, on the other hand, had proven himself time and again to be self-serving, to lie when convenient. Hell, he was a freaking Death Eater, even if he hadn't wanted to be! Who knew what went on at those meetings he was called away to? There'd be slim chance of Lucius being forthcoming if he _had_ murdered someone!

Abraxas glanced over at his son. With everything in him he wanted to believe him, but if he was lying about the Prewetts trying to kill him, what else was he lying about? "Tell me exactly what you remember."

Evidently torn over whether to trust his father with such delicate matters, Lucius finally nodded in resignation. The man knew he was a Death Eater, it wasn't as if that were a shocking revelation. "There were five of us. A Muggle started screaming and the Prewetts came out. There was dueling, I saw a huge cloud of bats coming from one of their wands right at me. The next instant, I got hit in the chest and fell. I was knocked out, that's all I saw."

"Did you see the curse that hit you?"

"No, I couldn't see anything for all those bats," he reiterated.

This was becoming interesting. A witness had reported five Death Eaters, intense dueling, one Death Eater falling, presumably slain. Lucius hadn't read the article, yet his story matched it perfectly. Maybe he wasn't lying after all, and if that was the case, he didn't actually see _who_ had fired off that curse. He'd simply _assumed_ it was one of the Prewett brothers. Abraxas' face took on a grave expression.

"Lucius, I think you'd better watch your back. Unless I'm seriously mistaken, one of your comrades tried to kill you last night."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Day three and counting. Only almost another whole crappy year to look forward to, Severus bemoaned to himself. He slouched out of Transfiguration class, his last class of the day, ready to head back to the dungeons. From the window he noticed the blue sky and light breeze blowing the tops of the trees. Instead of turning right toward Slytherin House, he veered left into the courtyard where already a multitude of students were gathered, which happened every time a nice day came along. There, off in a far corner, he spied his habitual spot, as yet unoccupied, and made a beeline for it.

With a soft breath one might construe as contentment, he slid down the trunk of the tree into a seated position. From here he could scan the entire courtyard without fear of anyone slinking up behind him, and since students rarely wandered over here, he felt almost at ease…almost. Wherever the slightest possibility of human contact existed, he could never be completely at ease. Even so, he closed his eyes to shut them all out, which only seemed to make their inane prattling all the more pronounced. He tried to pay no heed to the noise as the sun through the leaves warmed him, and the refreshing air tickled across his face.

"Snivelly, hogging this tree all to yourself, are you?"

Severus' eyes snapped open, his heart already racing. Why had he dared close his eyes? What kind of imbecile was he? _Don't show fear_, he reminded himself. To the boy directly in front of him, he coolly drawled, "Have you nothing better to do in your pitiful life than to annoy me?"

Sirius gave a very Slytherin-like sneer and shrugged. "Nope. Nothing at all."

His fingers tightly gripping his wand, Severus swallowed as he shot a glance around. Where were the rest of them? They were practically joined at the hip, they had to be nearby. "I'm really not in the mood. Move along."

"Move along?" Sirius echoed with an incredulous air. As he laughed he threw back his head and held his sides. "Oh, you're hilarious, Snivellus. Since when do you tell me what to do?"

"It was merely a suggestion," Severus answered calmly, then he lifted the wand where Sirius could see it aimed right at him. "You're not averse to taking suggestions, are you, Black?"

The expression on Sirius' face altered rapidly from shock to fear to anger in the space of a moment. "It figures you'd pull a wand first thing." The word 'coward' hovered on his lips but he wisely pushed it back.

"Perhaps if I didn't have to defend myself on a daily basis from the contemptible likes of yourself, I wouldn't feel the need." Severus nudged the wand along toward the school, indicating the course Black should take if he cared to remain in one piece.

Sirius spat on the ground dangerously close to the other boy before backing, turning, and huffing off across the yard. So much for any peace and quiet in the sweet outdoors! Severus got to his feet, quickly made another inspection of his surroundings, and stalked off in another direction lest Black bring reinforcements next time. He'd almost made it to the covered corridor when a shriek and screams caused him to whirl in dismay, wand still in hand, raised and ready.

One of the students was on fire! Closer assessment revealed it to be none other than Sirius Black flailing around as he desperately ripped at his outer robe, which was engulfed in flames. Staring in consternation along with the rest of the students, who'd ceased milling and talking to gawk, it didn't occur to Severus to perform a dousing spell until Professor McGonagall did exactly that from the corridor a few meters from him.

The teacher rushed over to assist the boy, who had finally managed to claw the robe off himself and was standing there sodden, looking like a drowned rat. He pointed up at Severus, and in the starkly quiet courtyard he shouted, "He did it, Professor! It was Snape!"

All eyes turned to Severus. Coming to his senses, he noticed he still had his wand in his hand, which might be construed as suspicious. Denial would serve no purpose, no one would believe him, so he did the only thing that entered his mind: he turned and ran.

Professor McGonagall tore after him, and with a well-aimed _immobulus_, brought him to a swift halt. Sirius came trotting up on her heels, his eyes wild with hatred, his own wand out. Together they approached Severus.

"Mr. Black, put your wand away," she ordered him.

"But he—"

"Mr. Black, I won't tell you again."

Resentfully he stuffed it into his pocket. Minerva released Severus from the spell and clamped her hand on his arm; with her other hand she plucked the wand from his fingers. Severus offered no resistance, though the shame of it burned to his core.

"I didn't do it, Professor," he protested softly.

"We'll let the Headmaster determine that, Mr. Snape. Both of you come along with me."

_As if I have a choice_, Severus thought bitterly. The witch's bony fingers dug into his equally bony arm in a painful way, though he'd rather chew his arm off than to let her or Black know it. Besides, she had his wand, so it would be blatantly reckless to try anything or to leave without it.

McGonagall led the boys up to Dumbledore's office, where she unceremoniously deposited them with what little information she had of the incident. She scowled deeply as she handed Severus his wand and tossed her head on the way out.

Dumbledore, evidently irritated to find the pair in his office _yet again_, heaved a long, disturbed sigh. "Boys, as much as I value interaction with my students, this is _not_ what I had in mind. What, pray tell, brings you here this time, on the third day of class, no less?"

"He started me on fire!" Sirius yelped. The smell of flame and smoke emanating from him, and the singed edges of his still dripping hair lent credence to his assertion.

"Liar," Severus seethed between clenched teeth.

"_Someone_ set you on fire," Dumbledore conceded. "Did you see Severus do it?"

"No," admitted Sirius sulkily. "But we were arguing just before that and he was threatening me with his wand."

Dumbledore turned to Severus. He was very well acquainted with the animosity between these two. If Severus had done this deed, he wasn't entirely sure he could blame him after all he'd suffered at Sirius' hands, and if Severus didn't wish to tell the truth, even Legilimency would be fruitless against him, as he'd learned once before. Of course, no matter who did it or why, it was intolerable… but he could understand.

"Severus, did you in any way cause this to happen to Sirius?"

"Sir, as much as it would overjoy me to claim the credit, I didn't do it."

"Then why did you try to run away?" demanded Sirius.

"Mr. Black, I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind. Severus, may I see your wand, please?"

He should have expected this. He'd hoped Dumbledore would believe him, he—stupidly—thought they'd forged a bond of sorts last year during his detentions, but he should have known better, shouldn't he? He was Slytherin, he was _Snivellus_, no one at this damned school would ever like or trust him! Silently outraged, the gall leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, he handed over his wand.

The Headmaster picked his own wand up off the shelf behind his desk, placed it tip to tip with Severus' wand, and said, "_Prior incantato_." At the juncture of the two wands, a smokey gray image of a large, frightening, scaly lizard drifted out to hover in the air.

At Dumbledore's raised eyebrows Severus muttered, "Transfiguration class. We turned our partners into animals." Unable to resist being a little snide, he added, "Professor McGonagall was there, she saw it if you don't have faith in me."

"_Deletrius_," said Dumbledore, and the image faded. "There you have it, Sirius. Severus is innocent."

Sirius gritted his teeth. It had to be Snape! Who else would've done it? "Maybe he used someone else's wand."

"Or maybe you're a blithering idiot," snapped Severus.

Handing the wand back to Severus, Dumbledore said to Sirius, "In the future, please be more careful with your accusations. I will be looking into the matter, you may go."

Severus waited until the other boy had gone, then stood up.

"Severus, I'd like to speak to you."

_Oh, great, you're going to lecture me after proving my innocence_! Forcing himself to face the old wizard, Severus sullenly hung his head.

"I knew you didn't do it, Severus. I'm sorry I had to treat you as though you were guilty. Unless Mr. Black witnessed it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it."

"He didn't believe it anyway," retorted the boy.

"Sirius is a hothead, but he's not a fool. He knows you didn't do it, as much as he wanted to see you punished for it. At least he'll not feel the need to seek out revenge," explained Dumbledore.

Revenge. After the years of misery he'd endured because of Sirius and his bully friends, _he_ ought to be seeking revenge, Severus seethed. Nonetheless, the Headmaster had a point, and he'd proven the Black bastard wrong, so it wasn't a total waste. And Black _had_ been on fire… why hadn't he found it amusing? He ought to have.

"Severus?"

"Black still thinks you don't trust me, else you wouldn't have done it," said Severus. Alright, he was still a little put out.

"Do you honestly care what he thinks?"

"No, sir," he replied with a shake of his head. "May I go?"

As Severus trudged to Slytherin House, wand in hand in case of a sneak attack, he rolled the incident over in his mind in his typical brooding fashion. Did someone else hate Black, too? Not that it would be a grand shock if they did. Could his world be improving, if only a tiny bit? His mood lifted ever so slightly, until he considered the alternative. More likely, was someone trying to frame him by attacking Black and letting Severus take the blame? If so, who? By the time he'd reached the Slytherin common room, his poor humor had become downright abysmal.

"Severus?"

He looked over at Glenna, who was patting the seat on the sofa. There was no one else in sight. "Yes?"

"Come sit down, tell me what Dumbledore said."

Shrugging one shoulder, he slouched over and dropped down next to her. "Black insisted I started him on fire, which of course was a monumental lie like almost everything that comes out of his filthy mouth."

"You didn't get in trouble, did you?" she gasped, looking stricken. "I'm sorry, Severus, I didn't mean to."

For a long moment Severus gaped at her, trying to process and comprehend what she was saying. "Excuse me, but are you telling me _you_ did that to Black?"

Glenna nodded. Her green eyes peered at him in a sad puppy dog way. "I know he's mean to you, and I wanted to do something to get your attention. I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

"Actually, you didn't," he answered. "Get me in trouble, I mean. Dumbledore proved me innocent."

"Oh, good!" she said, smiling in relief. She was quite pretty when she smiled.

"As for getting my attention, you definitely did—and brilliantly, I might add. But why?"

In exasperation, Glenna said, "For being so intelligent, you're really dense!" She grabbed him by the front of his robes, yanked him to her, and planted a hard kiss on his lips.

When she let up, Severus fell back flustered and blushing. Automatically he twisted around, expecting to find people watching and snickering. There was no one. "Glenna, if you're pulling a prank, it's not funny."

Glenna rolled her eyes and dropped her head back against the sofa. "What is wrong with you? If I did this to any other guy, he'd be all over me! You didn't notice me last year, I thought for sure this would work."

If she hadn't sounded so genuinely disappointed, Severus would have continued to cling to the notion that he was the butt of a joke. Instead, he felt kind of sorry for her. "I thought you were seeing Mulciber last year—after you dumped that seventh year, that is."

The girl raised up her head, heartened. He _had_ noticed! "Yeah. I liked them alright, but they're not smart like you."

"I don't know what to say," confessed Severus, flushing again.

Giving a sly grin, Glenna leaned in against him and purred, "Although I love to hear your sexy voice, right now I want you to shut up and kiss me." To make her point, one practiced hand snaked around the back of his head, the other around his waist, and she locked lips with him.

Severus found his hands, too, had a mind of their own. Before he knew it, one hand was caressing her cheek and running through her hair as he pressed his lips hungrily to hers. The other rested on what he was fairly certain was her tight little ass…and he liked it.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

While Narcissa lay with her back to her husband, his arm encircling her waist, she felt his hand inch upward until with a final leap it landed on her breast. He started nuzzling the back of her neck with his lips.

"The answer is no," she said quite clearly, though she made no move to remove his hand.

His brows dipped petulantly. "Why not?"

"You _know_ why not, Lucius Malfoy," she scolded, flipping over to face him. "Your father said you mustn't aggravate things by moving around or exerting yourself."

"You can be on top," he offered, smiling and winking. "I don't have to move at all."

"You're impossible!" she shot back. Even so, she couldn't resist smiling along with his endearing face. "It's only for a couple of days. I'm sure you'll survive."

She kissed him gently. This wasn't easy for her, either. She'd come very close to losing him, of course she desperately wanted to show him how much she loved and needed him. That notwithstanding, his health came first, and if she permitted a chink in her armor, he'd manage to exploit it until she gave in, which could be harmful to him. The risk was unacceptable.

In a bare whisper, still grinning, Lucius begged, "Pleeeeease?"

"No, now stop acting like a brat or I'll have to spank you." Oh, dammit, wrong thing to say! He wouldn't let _that_ go! She winced visibly.

Lucius' grin spread to a wide smile, then a hearty chuckle, his gray eyes twinkling with delight at the set up he'd been handed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Miss Narcissa? I'll bet you've been dreaming about what it would be like, hmm?"

"Pervert," she retorted.

"_You're_ the one who brought it up!" he crowed. He gazed up at the ceiling and sighed. "My wife's a deviant. Another skeleton for the Malfoy closet."

"I am _not_!" she insisted, her face turning red.

"You know, pretty soon we'll be needing to buy another closet to store all the unmentionables," Lucius said stonily. "I'll bet it'll cost a fortune."

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, striking him lightly on the arm.

"Narcissa! If Father found out you were assaulting me while I'm recuperating, he'd be horrified." He rubbed his arm dramatically, looking quite worried. "I hope it doesn't bruise."

"You're hopeless!"

"Come now, dear, which is it—impossible or hopeless," he chided. "I can't be both."

"Somehow, I think you can," she remarked, throwing up her hands and rolling to face away from him again.

"So…that's a definite 'no' then, huh?"


	17. Chapter 17

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventeen

When Antonin Dolohov's wife told him someone was waiting for him in his study, his heartbeat elevated so rapidly he had to sit down for a minute to keep from passing out. No one came unannounced, not his friends, anyway—they realized how easily a wand could 'slip' a spell in the heat of the moment. If he'd been home, this intruder would likely be dead on the front porch…unless it was an auror, which was a huge threat. Then again, aurors went missing all the time. What if it were—no, it couldn't be—but if it was…the _master_. Would he honor Dolohov's humble home with his presence? In the thirty-plus years he'd abetted the master, he'd never come here.

He took a few deep breaths, turned the knob, and pushed open the door. The young man in question was sitting at Dolohov's desk, feet propped up, staring with that blasted deadpan expression he found most exasperating.

"Get your feet off my desk, boy!" he growled, stepping into the room.

Lucius deigned to raise an eyebrow, yet another trick Dolohov detested. It made him want to slap the arrogant prig, knock those affected looks right off his face. Instead of obeying, the prat decided to show off by closing the door with a wave of his hand.

"Bravo. The little boy can do wandless magic," Dolohov sneered. "But he's apparently deaf." His naturally long, twisted face seemed to twist a bit more.

"Is something bothering you, Dolohov?' asked Lucius smoothly. He did take his feet down as he leaned forward, never taking his eyes off the man. "Does my presence here bother you? Or is it my presence in general?"

"What do you want? Did the master send you?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Lucius pulled his wand from out of his sleeve, aimed it at Dolohov, and the man rose in the air, spun briskly, then stopped abruptly. He appeared to be tied with invisible ropes, for his arms clenched against his sides and distinct weals appeared on his wrists and neck area.

"Let me down!" Dolohov bellowed. If nothing else, his wife would hear and aid him.

Malfoy gave a tiny smirk as if acknowledging the unspoken thought. "I took the liberty of placing a silencing charm on the room before you came. Feel free to shout all you like. In fact, as we progress, you might have the desire to scream. By all means, have at it."

"I'll butcher you, you bastard!" he shrieked as he struggled futilely.

"A one-trick pony, are you?" said Lucius with an obviously mocking frown. "You already tried that. Or are you so old your memory fails you?"

Beyond furious, yet understanding the true danger he was facing, Dolohov resorted to the only prudent course of action: outright mendacity. "I never did anything to you!"

"Oh? So that whole 'incident' at the Prewetts' house…what should we call that, hmm? Misadventure, perhaps?" drawled Lucius with evident enjoyment. "Only that's so misleading, don't you think?"

"What makes you think it was me?" His voice, while strained, maintained a hateful edge. "The Prewetts—"

"Come now, you can do better than that," chided Lucius. "We all know the Prewetts didn't subscribe to the Dark Arts."

"There were three others besides me!" Was he beginning to sound desperate?

"True. Bella might seem the logical choice, everyone knows we don't get along. However, come what may, if Bella wanted to kill me, she'd face me like a man and do it." Although he highly doubted his sister-in-law would appreciate the comparison to a man, it was the truth. Bellatrix saw no need for subterfuge, and besides, she'd saved Lucius' ass on more than one occasion in the past. Hardly the actions of a backstabber.

"That leaves Travers or Macnair," Dolohov insisted.

"Macnair is—how shall I put this delicately—not exactly ambitious, nor does he possess the capacity to plan a murder. He's a follower, pure and simple." Lucius regarded the man suspended in air before him. His upper lip dripped with sweat and his eyes had taken on the wild fear of a trapped animal. Exactly where he wanted him.

"Travers…well, once I'd recovered sufficiently from the sneak attack, I asked myself which of you might benefit from my death, and I confess I came up blank. Then I remembered that _you_ were the one who brought me back to the dark lord. You knew I wouldn't be getting up any time soon, and you couldn't very well leave me behind to be captured and questioned. When the master seemed curious as to my injuries, you couldn't let him know you'd used dark magic on me without provocation, especially when I was the squad leader, so you told him I'd been _stupefied_. You even went so far as to defend me in order to make yourself look like a loyal follower. How am I doing?" Lucius asked, his gray eyes hard as pieces of flint, his face as emotionless now as when he'd entered the home. The fact that he knew it pissed off the older man made him want to do it all the more.

"Pure conjecture," muttered Dolohov, licking his lips nervously. He'd ceased struggling.

"And here's the beauty of it—you figured I'd go home and die, and no one would be the wiser. My family couldn't admit I'd been killed by Dark Arts without arousing suspicion, possibly investigation that might lead to a disgrace of the Malfoy name. You'd get off scot-free. Except you didn't count on my father being able to heal me. Up to there it was perfect."

"Interesting little story, Malfoy. Paranoid, but interesting, now let me down!"

Ignoring his interruption, Lucius went on. "The only thing I haven't figured out is _why_?" Lucius chewed his lip as he furrowed his brow, pretending to concentrate. "Why don't you save us both a lot of trouble and tell me."

"Get bent, you little puke."

Lucius wagged his head. "That's not helpful." He pointed his wand. "_Crucio_!"

Dolohov's body went rigid before thrashing as wildly as it could with his arms bound to his sides. His screams reverberated through the room.

Lucius lifted his wand. "I'm waiting, Dolohov."

"I didn't do it," he wheezed.

"_Crucio_!" This time Lucius held the spell for a good long while, right up until he was fairly certain Dolohov would faint, or possibly die…probably faint, he decided. The screams had grown fainter, less powerful, and the man's face was ghastly white. "Would you like to tell me now why you hexed me?"

His face pooling and dripping with tears and spittle, his voice hoarse from torturous screams, Dolohov groaned, "I never intended to kill you."

"Deceit, Dolohov. I can't have that. We must be able to trust our fellow Death Eaters, must we not? _Crucio_!" Lucius had to admit to himself as he beheld the man writhe in agony that it was beginning to disturb him somewhat. True, he'd tried to murder Lucius, for which he deserved a great deal of punishment, yet he looked like he might go into a seizure or something if the torment continued much longer. He lifted the wand. "_Causa__ meschever_, Dolohov. Sound familiar? You should be kissing my feet for not pointing my wand at you when I say it!"

Panting and sobbing uncontrollably, Dolohov shrieked, "I didn't know! The other blokes I used it on, I killed them with the _avada_. I didn't know it was fatal!"

Again Lucius raised his eyebrows skeptically. "You expect me to believe that a wizard of your years utilizes curses without knowing their results? You're not a first year at Hogwarts!" When he raised the wand for another _crucio_, Dolohov broke into renewed hysterical weeping.

"I swear it! I knew it hit hard enough to take someone out of a fight, I knew it did damage, but I only wanted you down so you couldn't steal the glory of the kill! It wasn't fair, an upstart being given the honor of leader when I've served the master since before you were born! I didn't try to kill you, I didn't mean to hurt you that bad!"

"But you did, nonetheless," stated Lucius coldly. It wasn't that he was completely unmoved by the man's suffering and confession; he simply couldn't afford to let Dolohov or any of the Death Eaters question his capacity for savagery or his willingness to avenge himself. If he was to survive among them, they must respect him, fear him even. "I nearly died. For that, you must pay. _Crucio_!"

Dolohov's howling cries rang out once more, long and loud, until the screams would come no more and he was near the point of physical collapse. Lucius let him drop to the floor, removed the binding, and bent down to the figure curled on the ground shaking and whimpering.

In a contemptuous drawl he uttered, "I think I made my point, but in the event that you're too thick to grasp it, understand this: Don't. Mess. With. Me." With a flick of his wand he removed the silencing charm, walked out the door, nodded cordially to the Mrs., and Disapparated outside.

By the time Lucius arrived home, Narcissa and Abraxas had finished supper and retired to the main sitting room in front of a roaring fire. They greeted him with looks that bespoke both their desire to know why he'd come home so late and their desire _not_ to know because that would most likely entail speaking of the despised dark lord.

"You're late, honey," Narcissa said guardedly, rising to kiss him.

Lucius smiled and kissed her back, his cheerful tone reassuring. "I had an impromptu meeting with a co-worker. Time got away from me." He directed a nod at the man. "Good evening, Father."

"Hello, son. Who did you say that meeting was with?"

"I didn't say," he answered, a cloud passing over his countenance. His eyes hardened a touch. "I don't think you know him."

"Hmm," said Abraxas. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Immediately a house elf popped beside him. "Prepare supper for my son. Bring a tray of tea for myself and Miss Narcissa."

"Not for me," she said. "I'm not feeling very well. I think I'll go up to my room."

Lucius put an arm around her waist as he gazed with concern into her face. "Are you ill?"

"I've been worried about you, that's all. It's given me a headache."

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, pulling her close. "I should have owled you, I wasn't thinking."

"It's alright now, I know you're not hurt. I'll just need to lie down for a while." She disengaged herself from his grasp to approach Abraxas, who stood up, took her hand, and kissed it.

"If you like, I'll get you one of my healing potions, Narcissa."

"No, thank you, I'm fine." She gave him a hug, which he happily returned. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, child. If you change your mind…"

The men watched her go, then each settled into a chair. The silence between them seemed deeper than usual, more troubled. At last Abraxas spoke.

"You're a very glib liar, son, but you don't fool me."

Lucius lifted his head from its pensive pose and fixed his father with nothing less than a scowl, which instantly morphed into blankness. All his years growing up he'd never been able to lie convincingly enough to deceive the man, even when everyone else was taken in. It irked him, especially since Abraxas always made it a point to let him know he'd been caught and to punish him harshly for it. He should thank him, he supposed, because it had caused him to hone and refine his tactics, but he thought by now he had it down. If he could fool Lord Voldemort, why couldn't he fool his own father?

He slipped on his innocent face. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Nice try, Lucius. I work at the Ministry, too, lest you forget. I saw you leave at your normal time. Where did you go?"

Ah, so that was it! He'd _seen_ him! For some reason, that knowledge comforted him. "As I told my wife, I had a meeting with a co-worker."

"A Death Eater, you mean?"

His condemnatory stare pierced his son, which irritated Lucius all over again. He hated how easily his father could reduce him to feeling like a little boy. He didn't have to justify his actions anymore, he was a man, not a boy! "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Dare I inquire as to the nature of this meeting?" asked Abraxas.

"To be frank, I doubt you'd care to know. Let it suffice to say I'm taking your advice and 'watching my back'." He gave a small, polite smile as if to end this unpleasant farce of a conversation. The appearance of Sisidy bearing dinner was most welcome. "Ah, roast beef—excellent!"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Two cauldrons simmered on top of Severus' desk. One he merely glanced at, gave it a quick stir, then left it alone. The other he hunched over as he carefully studied the clock, waiting for the precise moment to add a neat pile of chopped bat wings, deboned. The second hand clicked up to the twelve; Severus scooped the wings into the pot and watched the liquid suck them down.

"Two?" exclaimed Nott from behind him.

Severus started. He hadn't heard him come in. "I see you're finally learning to count. When you make it to five, I'll be impressed," he smirked.

"It was bad enough smelling all those nasty concoctions from one cauldron, and now you've got two," Nott elaborated, rather unnecessarily.

"Again, congratulations on your sadly delayed mathematical skills." Severus observed the brew for another minute, then used his wand to reduce the flame to almost nothing.

Nott kicked off his shoes; the odor emanating from his socks far outweighed any potion Severus had brewed to date. "I noticed you and Glenna have been spending a lot of time together these past two weeks in the common room and the Great Hall and the library—I even saw you sitting over there in the courtyard."

With a vaguely disturbed air, Severus replied, "How very…stalker-like of you to notice."

"So…are you getting any?" asked Nott, grinning.

"That's not really any of your concern."

"Ah," said the other, sagely shaking his head. "That means 'no'."

With a dour expression, Severus turned around to face him. "And what would you know about it? No girl will even go out with you, probably because you make it excruciatingly obvious that your brain is more than intimately linked to your genitalia!"

Nott began to sneer, then frown, then he gave up on trying to decide what he should do. It would be so much easier if he had half a clue what Snape was talking about! Damn it all, couldn't the git learn normal English? Well, he had to say something, he didn't want to come off as dumb. "I could get a girl to go out with me."

"_Paying_ them doesn't count as a date," muttered Severus. "Don't you have homework or something?"

"Probably," answered Nott blithely. He sat on his bed to regard Severus as he worked on his potions. As appalling as his own always turned out, he really did find the subject fascinating.

"Must you stare?"

"I don't have anything better to do," he replied.

"How about your homework?" Severus exclaimed.

"Geez, you sound like my dad." He put on a contrived, deep voice as he waggled a finger at the other boy. "Do your work! Don't fail your classes! Don't make me beat you! Why are you such a moron?" He broke off and started laughing. "How would I know why I'm such a moron?"

"One too many blows to the head?" suggested Severus, grinning with him. A quick glance at the clock told him two thing: he'd ruin his potion if he didn't make a very rapid addition to it, and Glenna would be waiting to go to supper with him. It felt incredibly good to have an actual girl waiting for him, even if it wasn't Lily. Why did her name keep coming up whenever he thought of Glenna?

With one jarring, practiced move he crushed a thestral eye under his palm, wincing as the vitreous fluid squirted up his arm, drenching his sleeve in the thick, clear goo. Now he'd have to change his robe. Delicately he removed the lens from the slimy pile and dropped it into the cauldron. The rest he returned to a jar setting off to the side; he'd take it back to the lab later. The potion needed to cure for a week with occasional stirring, after that it would be good to go.

As he washed up in the bathroom, his mind drifted again to every time he and Glenna had made out, with all the accompanying excitement and passion. The memories made his heart beat faster. He'd never kissed a girl before Glenna, had never quite understood why all those hormonal imbeciles around Slytherin House spent an inordinate amount of time either necking or talking about it.

Now he did understand, and if those damned feelings of betraying Lily would leave him be, he'd find it even more pleasant and enjoyable. It wasn't like he was cheating on Lily, after all—she was the one who threw her disgusting relationship with Potter in his face at every turn! It didn't help that Glenna's green eyes and auburn hair gave her a slight resemblance to Lily, nor was it fair to compare them, and he'd never even kissed Lily. _Dammit, dammit, dammit all to hell, stop__ thinking of Lily_!

"Hey, Sev, Glenna's asking for you!" Nott's voice wafted in.

Severus glowered at his reflection. He wondered how he'd look bald. At least it would get rid of this insufferably greasy hair! "I'm coming."

In his perfectionist way, he checked the potions one last time before he left. It struck him as quite ironic that side by side sat two potions—one a possible remedy for infertility, the other a contraceptive. He blushed just to think of it. Glenna had suggested, to his astonishment (and delight), that he make one in the event things got serious, and although as a rule he frowned upon sexual escapades between unmarried parties, this time it involved_ him_, and…well, it was _sex_. Not that he truly let himself imagine he'd get the chance to use it, but one should be prepared.

He met Glenna leaning against the wall outside his room. "Are you supposed to be in the boys' dormitory?" he asked, a little surprised.

She smiled coyly. "It's not the first time, Severus. Speaking of which, did you make the potion we discussed?"

Severus nodded, feeling a tightening in his throat…and elsewhere. "It'll be done in a week, then you have to take it for a month before, um, you know, so it has time to work…" he rambled in embarrassment.

"In the meantime, if you can't control yourself we could use the wand method," Glenna purred in his ear, sending shivers down his body.

"I assure you, I'm in complete control of myself," Severus squeaked, then cleared his throat and began again. "The wand method is dangerous, it can cause damage to your reproductive organs. I wouldn't allow you to do it."

Glenna shrugged indifferently. When she dated Mulciber, they'd used that method all the time, successfully. And those other boys in her fifth year…probably best not to bring them up just now. If she ended up sterile, so what? She didn't much care for the idea of marrying just to pop out a pureblood heir, anyway.

She stared into Severus' black eyes. He was so different from the rest, he was responsible and innocent and…blast it, _so freaking sexy_! She lunged forward to plant her lips on his, relishing the sensation of his arms automatically enfolding her. Inexperienced or not, he was no slacker at snogging!

"Get a room!" a boy further down the hall called, followed by the laughter of several boys.

"Shall we go?" asked Glenna.

"In a minute," he mumbled back, pushing down his lusty thoughts that made it uncomfortable to walk at the moment. "Okay, I'm ready."

They proceeded to the hall where, as fate would have it—or planned it in order to make certain people's lives miserable, Sirius was waiting outside for his friends. He observed the couple, sneering.

"Look at that, miracles do happen! Snivelly's got himself a girlfriend!"

"And if you got yourself a brain and a life, we'd all live happily ever after," retorted Severus, brushing past.

Glenna strode by, putting her hand in Severus' for Sirius' benefit. She glanced back at him with overflowing enmity. "Hey, flash, can you come by later and start my fireplace? I hear you absolutely radiate warmth." She laughed, and Severus chuckled with her, though he refused to lower himself to look back.

Before Sirius had a chance for a snide remark, James and Lily sauntered into the hall. Both of them seemed surprised to see Glenna holding Snape's hand. To Glenna's eye, that Gryffindor bitch seemed a little too curious for her own good. She just might have to remedy that another time.


	18. Chapter 18

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighteen

Splayed out on a Slytherin common room couch, his feet propped on a low table, Glenna's head on his lap, Severus tried to read the book balanced precariously on the edge of his thigh with one hand. His other arm draped lightly around the girl, who at the moment was running her hands under the sleeve of his robe to caress his left arm, sending tingles up his spine. It distracted him in a way he couldn't definitely place as good or bad.

A rush of boisterous voices headed their way from the entrance, whence the Quidditch team came crashing after practice. Two of them appeared perturbed at one another; they shoved and jostled as they argued their way down the hallway. A couple more followed them, tossing in their take on whatever event had caused the rift, while the remaining boys threw their sweaty bodies on the sofas and chairs.

"You guys stink," said Glenna bluntly, not even looking at them.

"That's not what you said when I worked up a sweat with you!" crowed one of the beaters seated in a chair beside Glenna, laughing.

His mirth died in his throat. Glenna's wand was out, pointed menacingly close to his cheek. Her tone brooked no nonsense. "You know very well I was never with you, Rosier. Tell everyone the truth."

"Fine, I wasn't," he admitted sulkily.

"Now apologize to me."

"For what?" he exclaimed.

"Damn it, Evan, just do it! I'm trying to concentrate!" Severus barked.

"Sorry…" Evidently she wouldn't be appeased so easily. Her eyes had narrowed to slits and the wand jammed right into his face. "I'm sorry, Glenna, for implying you're a slut. Happy?"

Glenna stowed her wand in her robes. "That'll do."

Evan swore under his breath, got up, and stalked away. Regulus Black chuckled at his retreating back. As seeker for the Slytherin team, he was held in high regard by even the seventh years, whose disdain for anyone younger was generally all-encompassing. He relaxed, kicked his feet up on the table opposite Severus, and silently observed the bookworm with his girlfriend. Unlike his brother Sirius, he not only felt no animosity for Snape, he genuinely liked him. While they could hardly be called good friends, there'd never been any hostility between them, and they got along fine. Frankly, he didn't understand why Sirius insisted on tormenting the poor guy, who'd done nothing to deserve it. But then, Sirius wasn't quite normal, so maybe he was the one who needed pity.

A flash of something under the sleeve caught his eye and he bent forward with interest. Glenna's fingers dancing over Severus' skin, stroking the dark area, revealed it again, much more clearly this time, and Regulus inhaled sharply.

"Snape, can I ask you something?" Regulus glanced around at the company in the room.

"I believe you just did," answered Severus, still trying to read his book.

Regulus came over to him, bent over to his ear, and whispered, "Are you a Death Eater?"

Severus stopped all pretense of studying. From relatively emotionless, his face became downright blank. "Why?"

"Your girlfriend's playing with the Mark," Regulus grinned.

Oh, well, it wasn't any great secret, although Severus worried about the professors or Dumbledore finding out. He'd prefer not to have to defend his action. "I am," he said proudly, though not so loud as to attract attention. "I got the Dark Mark not long before this term started."

If he was hoping to impress the younger boy, he succeeded. Regulus' eyes lit up and Snape almost thought the kid might break into a jig.

"Can you take me? I want to be a Death Eater, too—"

Snape cut him off. "Glenna, would you excuse us? We need to discuss things not meant for young ears." He made a furtive gesture at a group of first years huddled by the fire.

"Are you coming back?"

"Of course." He got up, not without her first latching onto him for a kiss. Even though he'd gotten used to being pawed and smooched in public, it continued to embarrass him…in a good way, for sure.

Severus led the way to his room, which was already occupied by Nott and Mulciber. "You guys get out, will you? I want to talk to Black."

"About what?" asked Nott.

"If I told you, I may as well let you stay," explained Severus impatiently.

"Okay," said Nott, making as if to sit back down.

Regulus smirked and sidled up to him. "He's going to teach me how to make you love me," he cooed.

All the boys laughed except Nott, who jumped up grumbling. When they'd left, Severus threw a silencing charm over the room, then turned to Regulus. "Why do you want to be a Death Eater?"

Regulus shrugged and grinned. "So my family will see I believe in their values and they won't disown me. And all the guys are always talking about how cool it is to be one, how we can change the world."

Severus didn't respond right away. He wasn't quite sure how the master might take that answer. Yet, his own reasons for joining, while vastly different, had little or nothing to do with pledging his life to the master, either. "Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"No. I hear Mulciber, Rosier, and Nott are all hoping to join, but haven't yet. You're the only one I know who went through with it, not counting those blokes who graduated last year."

"So you don't even understand what it's all about," said Severus with a slightly superior air, which was deflated immediately by Black's query.

"What's it like to be a Death Eater?"

"I don't really know, either," confessed the older boy. "The dark lord hasn't given me an assignment or anything yet."

"How come you made Nott and Mulciber leave?" asked Regulus. "I'll bet they'd like to hear about your experience of meeting Voldemort."

"Don't say his name!" Severus clipped automatically. No one outside their group was deemed worthy to utter the name of the greatest wizard of all time. Even within the group, many feared to speak it. "I told them to leave because I like you, Reg. I'd be remiss not to warn you as I was warned."

"About what?"

"The dark lord. The one who presented me to him—"

"Lucius Malfoy, right?" smiled Regulus smugly. "My cousin Bellatrix said he'd brought a kid to the master not long ago, but she didn't say your name."

"Yes, Malfoy," acknowledged Severus. "He said he's been tortured with the Cruciatus by Lord Voldemort; many—perhaps all—of the followers have been. He told me to make sure of my mind, because there's no going back. The master will own you as he does us all, Reg, and you must obey without question or the master might kill you. Your life won't belong to you anymore. Is that what you want?"

Regulus hesitated. Naturally it wasn't what he wanted, but did he really have a choice? He needed to prove himself to his family. Could serving and obeying him be so much different from obeying his parents and bowing to their wishes? They'd not tortured him or anything, but they had Sirius before he ran away; if he didn't do something, he might be next. He nodded.

"Yeah, it's what I want. Can you take me?"

"I'll have to contact the master to set up a meeting. He'll ask you questions and probably probe your mind. Are you absolutely certain? If you change your mind, I won't think less of you," Severus persisted. If Lucius had thought it important enough to drive home these points, it was the least he could do for Regulus.

"I'm sure!" Regulus snapped. What did he expect—a signed, notarized parchment declaring his intentions? Maybe he'd have been better off asking Bella to take him, only she'd lord it over him forever. No, Severus was the better choice. "Please, Severus, I have to."

"Alright then. I'll let you know when." Severus removed the silence bubble. He clapped Regulus on the shoulder as he walked past on his way back to the common room. The dark lord would be very pleased at how quickly he'd found another follower, even if _technically_ the new recruit had come of his own accord and Snape hadn't actually done a thing. He wished very much to please the master, to be an integral part of this swelling movement about to overtake the wizarding world. Only with the Death Eaters was he accepted as an equal regardless of blood status; finally, he belonged somewhere.

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Voldemort was moving…again. It wasn't as if it were a terrible hardship, since his belongings were minimal, and he'd never been accustomed to the creature comforts. Moving, per se, was quite simple once he'd located a new out-of-the-way dump to live in. It was the idea of being _forced_ to leave that rankled.

The Muggle nosiness had begun almost immediately after he'd settled in Florida; it had increased to the point where trespassers on the property were a daily occurrence. Bellatrix and her relatives had participated in a few Muggle hunts, and unfortunately the missing persons and body count were bringing unwelcome attention. Should he destroy the lot of them as they deserved, Voldemort would only be drawing the attention of the wizard population upon himself, and he most disliked the notion of broadcasting his whereabouts. And so, having sealed the underground chamber, he was going to Scotland.

Lucius Malfoy wasn't quite sure why he'd been summoned here. If anything needed to be relocated or established in the new location, Bella, Rodolphus, or Rabastan was perfectly capable of doing it. He knelt before the master, sweating beneath his robes and mask, waiting to be told what to do.

"Lucius, you know where our new base of operations is?" asked Voldemort, rather unnecessarily. If he _didn't_ know, he was a raging moron, and that was hardly the way he'd describe young Malfoy.

"Of course, my lord."

"Good. My task for you is straightforward enough: bring me some things not found in our magical world." He produced a small piece of parchment on which were written several items.

Lucius looked over the list, furrowing his brow and frowning. What the hell was _peanut __butter_? And _Oreos_? "My lord, what are these things?"

"Food, Malfoy. I became quite fond of them growing up in a filthy Muggle orphanage."

"But—but…" was all Lucius could manage before his voice failed him. This was—no, it was too horrible to contemplate—_Muggle food_? And he was charged with somehow finding it and bringing it to the dark lord? "But…where am I to ever find such—delicacies?" he croaked, marginally avoiding saying 'such monstrosities'.

"In a Muggle supermarket," said Voldemort, eyeing the man closely. He stretched out a hand to wave away Lucius' mask, revealing the horror etched on Malfoy's fine features. It gave him a secret, deep pleasure to watch the boy squirm under the command. "You're a businessman, I'll leave it to you to acquire the funds."

"But, my lord!" he beseeched, for all the world seeming on the verge of tears. "Couldn't Bella do it?"

Voldemort had to stifle an amused snort. "Bellatrix has a certain way with Muggles, Lucius, which is why we're moving, as you might recall."

"Yes, my lord," he answered miserably.

"While the Muggle population is assuredly beneath us, you must obtain the skills to navigate in their society in the event you're ever in the position of needing to do so," explained the dark lord. "I have high aspirations for you, Lucius. Don't fail me."

"I won't, master. Thank you for your confidence in me." Lucius ducked his head. It was a test of his loyalty and resourcefulness, of course! The master wasn't punishing him, he was granting him the opportunity to show himself worthy, which was precisely what he would do! Clutching the parchment damp from his sweaty fist, he rose and bowed. "I will succeed, my lord. Count on me!"

At a near run he exited the farmhouse and Disapparated. First order of business was to find Muggle money, and the best place for that was Diagon Alley.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

They were all dressed so strangely in their hideous Muggle attire. Garbed in a heavy cloak over his ordinary, expensive robes, Lucius stood in the car park and gaped at a mother carrying a child in one arm and a suitcase—no, a large bag of some sort—in the other as she approached the double glass doors. Astonishingly, the doors drew aside to let her in. Perhaps she was a witch after all!

"Mummy, look at the funny man!"

Lucius turned his head, his loose hair blowing wildly in the stiff, cold breeze. Another woman with three tots clinging to her walked right by with a vocal admonition to the child to watch his mouth when strange men might hear him. Lucius had the distinct desire to hex her—and the little ones, too, just on principle. All at once he felt a tug on his trouser leg and looked down. One of the blasted urchins had attached itself to his leg! Eyes widening in revulsion, he shook his leg vigorously, unable to detach the child.

"Get it off," he hissed. Then louder, more frantically, "Get it off!"

"Willy, let the poor man be," ordered the woman. When the boy ignored her, she stomped over, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him into the store, whispering loudly about the dangers of vagrants. Once more the door automatically parted.

Heart racing from the close encounter with the Muggle child, Lucius took a tentative step toward the store, hand gripping his wand. Another step. Another. The doors opened for him.

"Ah-hah!" he said to himself. They _weren't_ witches, it was some type of Muggle magic. Well, not magic, but…oh, who gave a rat's ass!

He strode inside, only to find himself at a total loss. Never in his life had he been given the lowly chore of a house elf—shopping for food! It would have been bad enough among normal people, but _here_ among _them_ was positively deplorable, although at least he wouldn't have to endure the shame of wizards knowing about it. That was some comfort. One hand in his pocket fingered the paper notes these Muggles used for currency instead of the proper galleons. Primitive beasts.

All around him people were pushing wheeled baskets loaded with what he assumed must be food, for the way it was packaged gave quite a bit of room for doubt. He wrenched one of the baskets out of the line and shoved it ahead of him. There, now _that_ was food—fruits and vegetables in open bins. But was it on the list? He peered at the parchment again.

_Peanut butter_. Well, it said butter, maybe it was a brand of butter, wherever that might be. If he walked around the market long enough, he was bound to come across it. _Oreos_. No clue whatsoever. _Macaroni_. Sounded like an Italian gigolo. Was it possible the master was jerking him around and none of this stuff was real? Maybe, but better safe than sorry. _Cheetos_. Okay, this was getting more ludicrous by the second. That wasn't even a good fraud, it was a pitiful play on _cheetah_! The last item on the list: _burritos_. If his Spanish tutoring had been correct, that meant little donkeys. This was a huge, ridiculous joke on him! If he weren't afraid of the master's wrath, he'd have left immediately.

A Muggle man dressed in a smock with the words _Eat More, Pay Less_ emblazoned across the front noticed Lucius' apparent confusion and stepped over to him. Lucius' head swiveled at the motion beside him; he read the slogan, grimacing to himself that the man took the words far too literally. The smock stretched so tightly across his belly it seemed a wonder it remained in one piece.

"Sir, are you alright? Can I help you?"

"I highly doubt it," Lucius growled. _The master expects you to navigate the Muggle __world_, he reminded himself. "Is any of this actually food?" he blurted and thrust the parchment into the man's hand.

The Muggle scanned the list. "Oh, yes. Aisles four and six will get you everything but the burritos. They're in the frozen section."

"You have frozen donkeys in this place?" gasped Lucius, his normally composed mien registering shock. What kind of barbarians were these Muggles?

The man made a strange face and backed away, pointing at the numbers hanging at the end of each aisle. Lucius snatched his list and marched down to Aisle Four. After diligently searching for butter and finding none, he decided to retrace the aisle as he read the names on the packages. There it was—peanut butter! Loads and loads of it! Oh, no…chunky or creamy? To be on the safe side, he took three of each. Further down he spied boxes of macaroni; with cheese or plain? Ten boxes of each.

Feeling very pleased with himself, he pushed his cart over to Aisle Six. This time he started off reading the names on the boxes, bags, and strange crinkly noisy packages. To his surprise, there they were. Cheetos. He gave a slight, satisfied grin; they _did_ have a childish facsimile of a cheetah drawn on the bag. He dropped six bags each of regular and spicy hot into the basket. On the other side of the aisle were mountains of various types of cookies, and nestled among them were the brownish-black disks laden with cream. Four bags each of regular and double stuff went into the cart.

He shuddered. Now he had to endure the frozen animal section. To his bewilderment, he didn't find a single corpse in the entire area. Long, careful searching brought him to some small packages marked 'Burrito'. He took five of each flavor, wondering why they were called donkeys if they contained beef, chicken, and beans.

Now to pay for this bounty. At the front of the store he'd noticed people waiting in lines and handing over notes like those in his pocket, so he wheeled the cart up to the shortest line. No one spoke to him, nor to anyone else, they stood like zombies awaiting reanimation. No matter, he hardly expected civility from the pathetic creatures. It was his turn. Lucius shoved his basket up so the check-out girl could see what was in it.

"Ain't cha goin' to empty it?" she asked, snapping her gum in her teeth.

"Isn't that _your_ job?" Lucius retorted, smiling grimly.

The girl rolled her eyes and blew a bubble. She leaned over and began to pick up the items from his cart, scanning them and bagging them rapidly. "The total comes to seventy-four pounds."

Lucius gasped for the second time today. Although he hadn't worked out the exchange rate for pounds to galleons, and he could afford it nevertheless, highway robbery was highway robbery! "For this? What an overpriced bunch of crap!"

"You want it or not?" sneered the girl. She might've made a good Slytherin.

It_ was_ for the master, after all. Lucius removed the wad of bills from his pocket and counted out seventy-four. The girl took the money, then leaned close to whisper.

"You're really fit! I get off work in an hour. Wanna meet?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

Lucius fairly cringed in disgust. "I'm married," was all he could say.

"Oh, well." She handed him the bags, letting her own fingers brush his. "If you change your mind…"

He fled before she had time to say more. He seriously hoped the master would appreciate the anguish he'd gone through for him!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Sirius pounced the moment he saw Severus leaving class. He'd followed him here and waited patiently, occasionally ducking into the bathroom to avoid passers-by. As usual, Snape was the last to leave, which made things considerably easier for Sirius.

"Snivellus, I want to talk to you!" he demanded.

"How peculiar—I _don't_ care to talk to you," Severus rejoined, walking past him. His hand automatically went to his wand.

Sirius grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, coming face to face with Severus' wand. He dropped back a bit, yet refused to yield. "I talked to Regulus today. He said you're one of those Death Eaters now."

"That would be none of your business, Black."

"It is if you're planning to make my brother one!"

Severus sneered, enjoying Sirius' insane rant. "It's heartening to see you give me such credit. I couldn't make him one if I wanted to."

"You agreed to take him to that evil bastard!" Sirius shouted.

"He's sixteen, he's old enough to make his own decisions just as you made yours," Severus said evenly. "If I don't accompany him, no doubt your cousin Bella would be happy to do so."

"You're doing this to spite me!" seethed Sirius.

"Not everything revolves around you Gryffindorks," Severus spat back. "As much as harming you would give me pleasure, this has nothing to do with you! Unless you count the fact that Regulus feels the need to prove himself to your parents because of _you_, to show them he's not a blood traitor like _you_. In that case, I suppose you ought to be blaming yourself!"

He backed away from Sirius, wand still trained on him.

"Don't do it, Snape, I'm warning you."

"Or what? You'll attack me, you'll torment me, you'll make my life a living hell? Too late for that, I think." Severus continued to back up, eyes steady on Sirius, his voice low and calm. "I have a warning of my own, Black. I've learned a lot of dark magic, and I'm not afraid to use it. Stay away from me. I'm sick of your bullshit, and I won't take it anymore."

"What are you gonna do?"

"If I told you, that would ruin the surprise," said Severus. "Now leave."

Black whirled and flounced away in a fury. When he was gone, Severus hurried off the other way, his legs shaking under him, his breath coming hard. He had no idea what he'd do to Black, but if the jerk believed he meant him severe injury, perhaps he'd leave him be for once. He could always hope; he truly didn't want to have to hurt him.


	19. Chapter 19

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Nineteen

Friday afternoon, only an hour to go until quitting time. Lucius stared impatiently at the clock on his desk in his office. He wanted to go home; he'd been daydreaming about Narcissa all day, to the exclusion of being able to concentrate on anything else. The clock dutifully chimed the hour, rubbing in his face the fact that he was stuck here. Or was he? If he left covertly, it was unlikely anyone would notice, it wasn't as if he were a major cog in the Ministry…yet.

He got up, threw his cloak around his shoulders, and peeked out the door. A secretary, a few lowly office workers; if he strode by pretending to be on business, they wouldn't think anything of it. Straightening his shoulders and putting on his don't-bother-me-I'm-busy face, he flung open the door and proceeded to stride away.

"Mr. Malfoy," called the secretary.

Lucius whirled on her, gray eyes blazing. _Can't you read my face, woman?_ he wanted to shout. "Yes, what is it?"

"Oh, it can wait," she murmured, setting the parchment onto her desk. "I'll show you later."

"Fine," he clipped, spun around, and hurried out. By the time he was clear of anyone who might question him, he felt free like a naughty boy skipping classes at school. It was exhilarating. Now to use this ill-gotten time wisely!

He Apparated home, went into the foyer, and hung his cloak, then dashed to his bedroom. It was empty, as was Narcissa's study and the library. His heart sank. "Sisidy!"

An elf popped in, but it wasn't Sisidy. Dobby eyed his master warily. "Yes, Master Lucius?"

Lucius automatically grabbed a knick-knack off the shelf and hurled it at him. It conked him in the head, bounced off, and rolled across the floor. How he hated this disgusting elf, not without reason. Dobby had spied on him from the time he was a small child, relating every disobedience or infraction to Abraxas, and earning Lucius countless beatings.

"Where's Sisidy?"

"Busy, Master Lucius," squeaked Dobby, rubbing his head where it had begun to bleed a touch. "Master Malfoy is giving Sisidy errands."

"Where is my wife?"

Dobby's tennis ball sized eyes grew even larger. "In the ballroom, sir."

_Ballroom?_ thought Lucius. Was she planning a party she'd forgotten to tell him about? "Get out!" The elf popped out.

An excited Lucius Apparated to the far end of the ballroom to surprise his love, instead to be greeted with a great shock: Narcissa was waltzing around the floor with none other than Severus Snape! The boy obviously wasn't accustomed to this type of dance, if any type at all, for he led the woman around almost woodenly in a concentrated effort, then dipped her stiffly at the end as the music stopped.

Enthralled, yet a bit put out at the sight, Lucius studied the two from across the room where they'd apparently not noticed him. When Narcissa gently directed Severus' face toward her own and they gazed deeply, longingly into each other's eyes, he'd had enough.

"Isn't this cozy?" he snapped, his voice carrying to them as he stomped over scowling.

Startled and shaken, Severus lurched backward, dropping the woman onto the floor. He couldn't seem to decide whom to apologize to first as he latched onto her arm to pull her up while gawking in what looked like terror at his irate friend.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—Narcissa—Lucius, we were just dancing." He started to brush off her dress, thought better of it, and backed away.

"Honey, you're home early," Narcissa observed. She moved in to kiss him but he turned his face away.

"My best friend trying to steal my wife," he said coldly. "While she offers no resistance."

"No, Lucius, I'm not!" Severus yelped.

"Lucius, stop it!" Narcissa ordered. "I'm teaching him to dance!" She gave a disgusted cluck of her tongue, then muttered under her breath, "You bloody fool." She didn't deign to remind him that her Unbreakable Vow of fidelity to her husband wouldn't permit her to cheat if she had a mind to.

"Fool, am I?" Lucius replied, drawing his wand and pointing it at the petrified boy. "You know, Severus, if you're going to seduce a man's wife, you could at least do it right."

"I'm n—" was all Severus got out.

Lucius lunged at Narcissa, wrapped his arms around her waist, and dipped her low. In one smooth movement he bent forward to kiss her passionately as her arms came up around his neck. While Severus watched, his alarm dissipating, the two necked like teenagers. At last, Lucius lifted her up, her face flushed but beaming.

"_That_ is the proper way to dip a woman," Lucius smirked.

Severus' body relaxed with a huge sigh. "Don't ever joke like that."

"I wasn't joking at first," Lucius admitted. "I thought you were making a play for her, until she called me that heinous name." He pouted in her direction.

"Don't act like one and you'll have no worries," Narcissa smiled back at him. "Severus has been coming once or twice a week for the last month for lessons."

"They're holding a Halloween Ball next week," Severus chimed in.

"And you wanted to be able to dance with your little girlfriend," Lucius said, grinning. "Isn't that sweet?"

Narcissa smacked him in the chest. "It is sweet! Most men—like you—wouldn't bother."

"I'm quite good at dancing, dear," her husband corrected her.

"Only because you were forced to take lessons for years," she shot back. "Given a choice, you wouldn't have done it."

Unable to argue that point, Lucius ignored it altogether. "Well, then, carry on. When you finish, I was hoping to spend some 'quality time' with my wife before dinner." He winked at her, then laughed when she blushed. He laughed even harder to see Severus blushing. "Come on, Severus, you're not embarrassed by my innuendoes, are you?"

"A little," mumbled the boy, staring at the floor.

"Are you telling me you and Glenna haven't had s—"

"Lucius!" Narcissa interrupted. "That's none of your business! Besides, you and I never did until we were married."

It was Lucius' turn to flush, his scarlet hue deepening at Severus' surprised look.

Narcissa, pleased with herself, turned to the boy. "You'll stay for supper, won't you? I'll have an elf bring out some of Lucius' old dress robes for you. You want to look nice for the girl, after all."

"I really should go, Glenna's expecting me. But if you don't mind, I'd like to borrow those robes," answered Snape. "And thank you very much for teaching me."

"My pleasure." Then, to tease her husband, she stepped up to Severus, put a hand around the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to kiss his cheek. "I hope you have a good time. Let's get you those robes."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Shameless hussy," Lucius sniped at his wife after Severus had gone. "Flirting with him right in front of me."

"Oh, were you jealous?" she cooed, eyes twinkling.

"No…yes—no! I don't know," he snapped petulantly.

"Lucius, if I were going to flirt for real, it certainly wouldn't be in front of you," Narcissa said soberly, sidling up to put her arms around his waist. "And why would I want to? I love you, you're everything I want in a man."

"Like what?" he asked, sulking slightly less.

"Well, you're rich and powerful, you have a grand mansion, you buy me loads of stuff." At the indignation rising in his face, she could continue no longer and burst out laughing. "Honestly, you'll believe anything I say, won't you?"

"Yes," he answered curtly, truthfully.

"I love you because you're so deliciously handsome, you're intelligent, you're kind and respectful to me, you have a wicked sense of humor. I love that you love me. Is that honest enough?"

Lucius gazed down at her with adoration shining in his eyes, his heart melting at the description. "Yes," he said again in a husky voice, right before crushing his lips to hers. Over and over he kissed her lips, her neck, her throat with a passionate desperation.

"Honey, let's go upstairs," breathed Narcissa.

"Can't we do it here? There's no one around," he whispered, not ceasing in his attentions. His fingers deftly worked at unbuttoning her dress.

"I don't know…"

"Throw caution to the wind, Narcissa," Lucius growled in her ear, pressing her to the floor. And for the first time in their marriage, she did, right there on the ballroom floor.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As usual, the Slytherin common room was bustling with students, most of them chatting, a few studying amid the noise. Severus, face in a book, had learned to turn a deaf ear to the rabble; in his own room it was much more difficult because he was frequently addressed by name by his roommates. Across the floor a group of Quidditch players tossed a snitch into the air, vying to see who could catch it first.

Professor Slughorn's appearance made scarcely an impression. While holding the respect of 'his little Slytherins', he was neither feared nor befriended by most of them. He was, in short, their professor and Head of House. Nothing more or less.

"Regulus, come to my office," he said over the din.

Regulus released the snitch, which the other players charged after. "Did I do something wrong, sir?"

"I don't know. Go on." Slughorn's voice carried over to the fireplace. "Severus, in my office. Now." He toddled off behind Black, expecting Snape to follow. When they got to his office, he turned around to see Severus behind him looking worried.

"Professor?"

"Boys, Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to send you to him. If you tell me what this is about, I may be able to intercede for you."

Severus and Regulus exchanged wary glances.

Severus shrugged and shook his head. "I haven't done anything, sir. I haven't even had any run-ins with _them_ lately." It had been weeks since he and Sirius had threatened each other.

Professor Slughorn pursed his lips at the mention of the Marauders. He failed to understand why Dumbledore permitted the ruffians the freedom he did, in light of their cruel activities. It angered him, if truth be told, that the Slytherins were required to behave and were severely reprimanded when they didn't, yet Gryffindors could do anything up to—and possibly including, he didn't rule it out—murder.

"Regulus, what about you?"

The younger boy cleared his throat, looking down. Although he had a pretty good idea of what the problem was, he wasn't a good liar, and his eyes were the first to show it. "I don't know, Professor. I think maybe my brother is trying to get us in trouble."

"Why would he do that to _you_?" Sadly, Sirius Black had made it obvious over the years that he'd do practically anything to Severus.

"Cuz he hates Severus, and lately I've been hanging around with him. My parents say he's not stable…" This was all true; his eyes traced a scuff mark on the tile so he didn't have to look up, revealing his shame.

"Yes, well…go on, both of you. If I find out you've been up to something after all, I'll have to discipline you for lying to me." No doubt the Headmaster would take care of any other castigation for whatever trumped up offense this was.

The two boys walked off down the hall and out of Slytherin House in silence. Only when they found themselves completely alone, free even of any portraits that might betray them, they stopped to talk.

"What do you think he wants?" asked Severus with an edge of fear in his voice.

"I know what he wants! I told Sirius about you, that you were going to take me to the dark lord," Regulus lamented.

"I know. He confronted me and warned me not to do it."

Regulus looked at him in shock. "Why didn't you say something?" he exclaimed.

Severus shrugged. "I'm not afraid of him."

"But I'll bet he went to Dumbledore, Severus! He told him about you!"

Snape's pale face went a shade whiter. If Dumbledore discovered him to be a Death Eater, he might expel him! Sure, there'd been Death Eaters in previous classes, none of whom were thrown out of school, but had the Headmaster known about them? Even if he allowed Severus to stay, his disappointed, disgusted looks would be too hard to take. Dumbledore had been kind to him when few were… He bit his lip and forced back the tears welling in his eyes.

"What do you think he'll do to me?" he croaked.

"I don't know," murmured the other. "But I guess we'd better go find out."

By the time they arrived at Dumbledore's office, Severus' legs were shaking and it took all his strength to maintain his composure. A quick glance at Regulus showed he wasn't faring much better. With eyes like saucers in his head, he muttered the password given them by Slughorn.

"Candy cane."

They went on up to greet the old wizard, who wore a stern, reproving expression. He bid them sit. "Regulus, I had a visit from your brother today."

Both of the boys gulped.

"Yes, sir?" said Regulus.

"He had quite a tale to tell about Mr. Snape being a Death Eater who was trying to recruit you." Here his hard gaze swept over Severus, engulfing him like a cold wave. The boy could only stare in horror, imagining what the man may have planned for him. "Severus—"

"It's a lie!" Regulus interrupted loudly, more loudly than he'd intended. "I made it all up, Headmaster. I told Sirius all of that because I was mad at him for disgracing our family. I didn't mean to drag Snape into it, to get him in trouble, it's just that I know Sirius hates Snape, so I thought if I told him he … I'm sorry, Severus. Please don't punish him for what I did, Headmaster."

Snape's open-mouthed gaping had turned on Regulus during his spiel. If one didn't know he was indeed a Death Eater, one might think he was simply astounded by the accusation and Regulus' subsequent confession.

Dumbledore, for once, seemed at a loss for words. He was well aware of the hostility in the Black household, of Sirius' untimely departure to live with the Potters, and of the expectation among the Blacks that Regulus would not follow in his footsteps. It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that the boy would taunt his brother with such a story merely to wound him. But what if it wasn't only a story? Severus certainly seemed shocked at the whole thing. If he forced him to present his arm for inspection, only to find he was NOT a Death Eater, it would destroy any trust he'd managed to build between them. Still, to be on the safe side, he made a heavy decision.

"Regulus, to make up such a tale is abominable. As a penalty, you are forbidden to leave school grounds while school is in session. If you partake of the outings to Hogsmeade, the teachers in charge will be instructed to keep a close eye on you lest you try to wander off. This order will be in effect until you graduate next year. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," whispered Regulus, dropping his head. "I really am sorry."_Sorry I ever told that no-good brother of mine_, he seethed inside.

"You boys may go."

As one they got up and filed out, again waiting for a safe spot to stop. Severus spun on Regulus. "Why did you do that—take the blame?"

"Because it was my fault. I should've kept my mouth shut instead of blabbing to Sirius."

"I think he suspects," said Severus grimly. "He had no real right to make me show the Dark Mark, which is why he let it go, but by keeping you on a short leash he prevents us from going to the dark lord."

"Only until Christmas holiday. Once we're home, he can't stop us."

"True, but…" Severus grimaced again. "I already contacted the master to set up a day for you. Dumbledore will be watching us both, I won't be able to go—not that I'd want to go alone." He neglected to say he'd likely be given a taste of the Cruciatus for not delivering on his promise.

"I'm sure he'll understand."

_I'm not_, Severus mused. The best he could do was ask someone to approach the dark lord for him to make his apologies and give an explanation, and hope that person wasn't tortured in his stead. And the only person he could ask was the one he'd least like to see tortured…

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was Halloween night and Severus refused to let Dumbledore or Sirius or even the dark lord bother him tonight. If his life fell to pieces tomorrow, he'd deal with that tomorrow. Right now, he'd showered and freshly washed his hair for the second time today, giving him a few hours until it hung limp and lank again. Lucius' robes, while a bit too roomy, were the perfect height, and if he did say so himself, he looked quite dashing in them. For the first time in his life, he looked forward to an event with anticipation rather than dread.

He tucked his wand into the inner pocket of his robe near his heart, took a deep breath, and headed to the common room to meet Glenna. From across the room he detected her auburn hair, braided and piled atop her head, shining in the light. When her green eyes caught his, they danced with a surprised joy and she rushed over to him, her long ivory dress billowing behind.

"Severus, you look so handsome!"

"You look beautiful," he replied, kissing her gently, not daring anything too wet lest she was wearing that awful make-up stuff. The evident looks of admiration she gave him made his chest swell. Offering her his arm, he led her out and they strolled on their way to the Great Hall.

Even from a distance they heard the raucous music of the cult band 'Crones and Bones'; they noticed a good deal of students already in attendance, though none under fifth year were permitted. A swift reconnaissance of the room showed the Slytherins off to the left, where their tables usually sat.

"Glenna, go on over with our House, I'll bring you a refreshment," said Severus. He found it hard to tear his eyes off her, especially when she wiggled her hips walking away.

When he finally did, he whirled sharply toward the punch table and almost ran into Lily approaching him from behind. He drew back, startled. "Lily. Hello."

"Hello, Severus. You're looking very nice." Was she actually attempting a smile?

"Thank you. So are you." My God, she looked like an angel! In an instant Glenna was forgotten as he gazed in rapture at his Lily. He felt the desire to reach out to touch her cascading red hair and halted himself. _She hates you_, he reminded himself. Her next sentence brought reality screaming back.

"You and Glenna look happy together. I notice you're with her all the time," said Lily, glancing past him at the other girl's back.

She noticed? Severus smiled. "Yes, we're happy." He couldn't bring himself to mention the slimeball Lily had shackled herself to, it was too nauseating. He could see the unruly black spikes called hair all the way over here as Potter observed them talking with that nasty smirk on his hideous face. His words popped out on their own. "Why are you talking to me, Lily? I was under the impression you despised me."

"I don't, Severus. Just because we're not friends anymore doesn't mean we have to be enemies."

_Ah, so that's how she's playing it. Be cordial, but don't get too close. No thanks._ "I was never your enemy, Lily, but we both know how futile this conversation is. Glenna's expecting me; _she_ cares for me, and I don't want to keep her waiting." With every ounce of strength he could muster, he turned away and went to the punch table, unaware of Lily's eyes on his back, or of Glenna's cold stare bouncing between Lily and himself.

"Sorry I took so long," he apologized, handing Glenna a cup of punch.

"It's alright," she answered softly.

All of a sudden she leaned in and kissed him hard, sliding her tongue along his lips, inviting him to reciprocate, which he did wholeheartedly, to the whistles and cheers of the surrounding Slytherins. When they parted, she shot a gloating glare across the room at Lily, who seemed unable to stop watching until James joined her with a questioning expression and she turned away.

"What's the occasion?" Severus asked, grinning stupidly. At the moment he didn't care that he'd spilled his punch on Lucius' robes; he'd remedy that later.

"Thirty days," she said, throwing him a wink.

"Thirty days—oooh," he said, nodding. She'd been taking his potion for thirty days. His heartbeat sped up as the music slowed down. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, offering his hand and bowing as he'd been instructed.

"I would."

Suffice it to say no one expected Severus Snape to exhibit any degree of skill in dance; his acquired proficiency at Narcissa's hand shone brightly in a Hall bereft of students able to navigate without tripping over their own feet. Not the least among those surprised by his competence was Glenna.

"I can't believe how well you dance, Severus," she gushed, thrilled to be the object of envy from girls whose dates clomped around while stomping on their toes.

"I took lessons," he confided in her ear. "Just for you."

Glenna would have held him tighter and squeezed enthusiastically if he weren't so fixated on whirling her precisely to the music. On one pass around the floor, she caught a glimpse of Lily watching them in amazement, which made her smile.

"You had your chance, bitch," she whispered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just thinking out loud." She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed a contented sigh.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The door to Severus' room burst open and Nott stumbled in with a couple of his friends, all of them evidently inebriated. Where they'd got the liquor was anyone's guess. He cast a _lumos_ charm in time to see Severus' naked backside as he hurriedly pulled the covers up over himself.

"Get out," Severus ordered.

Nott, grinning like the drunken fool he was, came lurching forward instead, flanked by his friends. "What're ya doin', Sev?" He bent down to see if he was seeing what he thought he was. "He's got Glenna under there!" he howled.

The three immediately broke into catcalls and cries of 'Nice goin', Sev!' or 'Way to go!'

"GET OUT!" Severus bellowed, lifting himself off the girl enough to grab his wand and point it at them.

Together they rushed back to the door, where Nott paused to slur, "Ya coulda just told us to leave." He barely got his head out before the door slammed and Severus put a locking spell on it.

"Sorry, babe," he said huskily. "Where were we?"


	20. Chapter 20

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty

(**Author's note**: My dear readers, I understand some of you are anxious to see Draco arrive, but I ask for your patience. I'm trying to adhere to the timeline as set forth in the books, so it will be a little while yet, but I promise there will be rumblings of the baby soon.)

_Dear Lucius,_

_I need your help. I don't trust anyone else._

_I was supposed to take Regulus Black to the master in two days, _

_but Headmaster Dumbledore has a watch on him, and probably on me,_

_making it impossible. Could you please explain to the dark lord for me? _

_If you think he might transfer his irritation to you, don't go, but can you_

_suggest any alternative plan for me? I'm sorry to put this on you._

_Your friend, Severus_

Lucius set the note on the edge of his study desk, where it promptly exploded into a fiery blaze and was gone. With a wry smile, he acknowledged the boy's ingenuity; he'd told Severus about Narcissa finding the other note in the laundry, and apparently there was to be no repeat performance.

So, Dumbledore was sticking his nose in again where it didn't belong: what a surprise. It wasn't enough the old wizard had done his best to see Lucius punished repeatedly while at Hogwarts, now he'd started in on Severus. What was it with that man and Slytherins?

This was definitely a bad development for the lad, no doubt whatsoever. The master was expecting a new follower, and if Severus didn't deliver he was liable to be tortured horribly. Then again, Lucius had endured the Cruciatus plenty of times, likely this would be only the first of many for Severus. The probability of the dark lord murdering Severus over this was quite low…still, he didn't relish the idea one whit.

Lucius picked up a quill and a bit of parchment, thought for a moment, then wrote:

_Severus,_

_I'll go._

_L._

It wouldn't do to write too much information when the owl might easily be intercepted by Dumbledore. A bare minimum would have to suffice. He tucked the note around his owl's leg, tied it on, and sent it off to Hogwarts to find his friend.

With a heavy sigh he donned his Death Eater robes. As much as he enjoyed the frightening effect they had on others, he despised what they symbolized in terms of slaughtering innocent people. Wasn't the ultimate purpose of their rebellion to push mudbloods and halfbreeds to the fringes where they belonged? Sure, some of the wizards and witches deserved to die, as did the Muggles, but _children_? He'd heard of several instances so far of bloodthirsty Death Eaters torturing and murdering little ones, and it sickened him, especially when they were wizarding children. Why didn't Lord Voldemort lay down rules of engagement for this war?

He shook his head. Questions like this would get him killed one day if he wasn't careful. His job was to move up in the Ministry, to eventually win a Governor position so he could oversee that blasted Dumbledore's mismanagement of Hogwarts. With support of the other governors, he could remove Dumbledore and instate a Headmaster willing to cater only to purebloods…and possibly some halfbloods. But no mudbloods! His job was _not_, thankfully, to muck about 'eliminating' people. For that he was truly grateful.

"Lucius." Narcissa stood in the doorway of his study watching him.

"I thought we agreed you'd knock before coming in, Narcissa." Although he wasn't really upset, what if there'd been something she shouldn't see?

"You've been called?" she asked, her voice trembling as it often did now when he was called away, ever since he'd nearly died.

"No, my love." He moved over to embrace her and noticed her whole body trembling. "It's okay, sweetheart. Severus asked me to go explain something to the dark lord. There's no danger." _Unless he gets pissed and decides to __crucio__ me._

"Then why are you wearing these robes?"

"It's expected," he said simply.

"When will you be back?"

"As soon as I can." He kissed her tenderly on the neck. "The sooner I go, the sooner I return. I love you, Narcissa. Don't worry about me."

"I worry about you because I love you," she retorted, clenching him to her chest.

He let her rest there for a good while as he pressed her to himself. All of this, the whole Death Eater movement, was for her…for purebloods. One day maybe she'd understand and come to accept it.

"I should go," he said at last, disengaging himself from her. He planted a kiss on her lips and headed to the foyer.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

This was only the second time Lucius had been to the new slum—er, hideout. A ramshackle castle, for lack of a better term, was the new official headquarters. Of course, if said castle had consisted of more than a few stone walls half-demolished and strewn across the area, it might have been remotely impressive. As it was, the place was freezing cold the last time he'd been here; he imagined late autumn's frigid breezes would make things significantly worse, along with the lack of proper walls making insulation virtually impossible.

Lucius wrapped his robes tighter around him and adjusted his mask. Lord Voldemort wasn't expecting him, there was no telling what kind of reception he might get, especially if the master was busy 'training' Bella. That was a hoot, he snickered. Undoubtedly most of the 'training' going on had nothing to do with Dark Arts, and Bella was the instructor! Yet another thing he'd do well to keep to himself, he surmised.

He entered through a crumbling arch that looked to fall at any second, right into another world—or so it seemed. Although from the outside nothing existed except broken walls, here was a large, cozy room with a fire blazing in the hearth. Two doorways on opposite sides of the room led into, as far as he could see, more magical spaces. He took off his mask and stared in wonder. Evidently the dark lord had been busy remodeling.

As if anticipating his arrival, Bellatrix studied him from a stool next to a stone table, munching on…no, it couldn't be…Cheetos? "Hey, blondie, what're you doing here?" Crunch, crunch, crunch.

"What are you eating?" he exclaimed, grimacing in disdain.

"Want some? They're not bad." Crunch. Crunch.

"No, thank you. It was bad enough _buying_ Muggle food without having to _eat_ it as well."

"Lucius," came the familiar high hissing voice behind him. Damn it, how the hell did he manage to sneak around like that?

Lucius whirled and dropped to his knees for the requisite groveling. "Master, I've come to see you."

"Obviously. Get up, have some Oreos," the man invited in a tone suspiciously like a command.

Reluctantly he arose, the look on his face implying he'd been ordered to kill and eat a skunk with his bare hands—raw. "I'm not really hungry," he murmured.

Nevertheless, Bella thrust one of the chocolate wafers stuffed with creamy goodness into his hand. If the master hadn't been watching, he'd have pitched it back in her face. He stared at the vile object in his hand, then nibbled a bit off the edge. Well, he wasn't dead yet. He took a bite and the sweet chocolatey sensation washed through his mouth. He…he _liked_ it! Oh, God, this couldn't be happening! How shameful!

"Surprised, Malfoy?" said Voldemort with a twist of his lips. The sight of this pureblood coerced into tasting Muggle food tickled him immensely. "Don't be too quick to judge what you don't understand."

_That's rich, coming from you_, Lucius thought insubordinately, quickly lowering his eyes. Besides, everybody knew that Muggle things were inferior to magical ones, no judgment was required. "Yes, master, thank you."

"What is it you've come for?"

"Severus Snape, my lord. He has a meeting set with you."

Voldemort smiled again in his frightening way. "Yes, how is our friend?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. The Headmaster at Hogwarts is meddling in his business, watching the boys, hindering them from coming." Lucius modulated his tone to communicate the seriousness of the occasion. "He deeply regrets that he won't be able to appear at the appointed time."

All sound stopped, even Bella's annoying crunching and crinkling of the plastic bag. Voldemort's red eyes locked on Lucius in a most malevolent manner, and the latter reflexively faded backward, eyes widening. Being the harbinger of bad tidings and working for Lord Voldemort were definitely a volatile combination.

"Not coming?" echoed the dark lord softly as he advanced on Lucius. "He told you this?"

"Yes, my lord, he owled me. He asked me to convey his frustration and anger at being thwarted by Dumbledore." Lucius braced for the Cruciatus, knowing all the while that bracing didn't really help.

Voldemort turned from him to address the woman. "Bellatrix, what do you think I should do?"

Bella, evidently thrilled to not only be invited into the conversation, but asked for advice, jumped to her feet, wand held in her Cheeto-stained fingers. "Do you wish me to punish him, master? I'll happily do so." She aimed her wand directly at Lucius' chest.

The wry look on the dark lord's face made it clear he didn't desire her advice, only her willingness to serve. He patted her hair, stroking her like a prize animal. "So you would, Bellatrix, so you would. I was, however, referring to young Snape. Lucius here is merely the messenger."

"I'll go to Hogwarts and _crucio_ him," she suggested eagerly.

"And what of that old fool Dumbledore? Would he not prevent you?"

"Nothing will prevent me from carrying out my master's orders," she declared.

Lucius could have sworn that if Lord Voldemort hadn't been there, she would've stuck her tongue out at him. He cleared his throat. "My lord, if—"

"Silence, Lucius." The older man made a sweeping gesture at Bella. "Here is an example of obedience, of dedication. I require the same from all my followers. When you return, inform Severus Snape that I await him in two weeks time, with or without the Black boy. I have a surprise for him."

The very words made Lucius' skin crawl. Surprises among Death Eaters were never good. What wicked thing had he decided upon to punish Severus? Images of torture, rape, and mayhem swarmed into his brain, making him physically ill. "As you wish, master."

"And Lucius—if he doesn't make it this time, kill him."

Like from a swift kick to the gut, Lucius doubled over from the horror of the command. He sucked in a ragged breath and forced himself to rise, pretending it had been a bow. "Yes, my lord," he choked out. Before his emotions could betray him, he rushed out into the blustery chill of the evening.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The owl had arrived saying simply '_Meet me in Hogsmeade at seven o'clock_'. Severus wasn't exactly sure whom he was supposed to meet, though the writing looked familiar. Of course, without a salutation, he couldn't be certain the message was even intended for him. Still, he crept away from his House into the yard and dashed away as fast as he could to avoid being seen. That was all he'd need—to be caught and turned over to Dumbledore. It had been so much easier to come and go before he and Regulus were summoned to the Headmaster's office; now he felt eyes on his back at every turn.

When he reached the Hogwarts boundary, he glanced back, gladdened to see no one following. With a swift wave he disappeared, Apparated into Hogsmeade, and stood there in the street looking around like a waif. People passed by, bundled against the mid-November cold, reminding him of how worn his robes were. He crossed his arms over his chest, shivering. Maybe if he walked around he'd find whoever sent the note. Then again, if he stayed put, that person could more easily find _him_, hopefully soon. He was freezing, and he didn't dare stay away from Hogwarts for very long. His stomach lurched at the insidious thought that Dumbledore had sent the note to entrap him!

"Severus."

Snape turned to the voice, recognizing the drawl instantly. "Lucius, did you—"

"Come on," Lucius interrupted, waving him along out of the street into a narrow alley between shops. At least the biting wind didn't reach them here. Lucius pushed him up against the wall, not roughly, but hard enough to get his attention. "The master was not pleased when I saw him yesterday."

"I'm sorry. He didn't hurt you, did he?" asked Severus anxiously.

"No, just listen! He's furious, he's going to punish you, I don't know how. He said you're to go to him in two weeks—that's one day less, now. You _must not_ miss this appointment, do you understand?"

"But if he's only going to punish me, can't it wait for the holidays?"

"_No_!" bellowed Malfoy, glancing about to see if he'd been heard. His normally cold gray, jaded eyes bore traces of utter fear, which sent a pang of terror through the boy. "This isn't a game, I tried to tell you that but you wouldn't listen," he hissed. "No matter what, you _must be there_."

"What about Dumbledore?" asked Severus nervously.

In a heartbeat Lucius snatched the front of Severus' robes, lifted him onto his toes, and slammed him hard against the brick wall at his back. "You. Will. Go."

Severus, who'd never seen his friend behave this way, gawked in consternation, his black eyes delving into the others. He nodded slightly and Lucius let him go.

"What if I can't get off Hogwarts grounds?"

"Use the floo network in Slughorn's room, come to the manor." Lucius rattled off the words as if he'd practiced them beforehand. "I'll send an owl to Slughorn that night to request your presence, saying we need you. I'll make up some excuse. I cannot stress strongly enough how important this is."

"Alright, I'll do it," Severus agreed. Lucius seemed to relax visibly. "I have to get back to school before I'm missed."

Lucius nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe in two weeks the master won't be so angry." He straightened his robes and strode out of the alley as though it were perfectly natural for one of his wealth and breeding to be creeping about in such places.

Severus remained behind for a few moments, gathering his wits about him. Lucius was afraid for him, which in itself would have been enough to give him pause. Only Lucius didn't realize the rest of the information he'd given away; utilizing his skill as a Legilimens, Severus had seen the reason for his friend's agitation, the fanatical insistence that he not fail to appear, and it cut him to the core: Lucius had been ordered to kill him.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Glenna heard the snickering of the other girls when she walked into a stall in one of the common lavatories. She despised using these bathrooms rather than those in Slytherin House, but it was far off and her next class began in a few minutes. When she came out, she noted from the corner of her eye three girls huddled near the window; one of them peered into a mirror, adjusting her uniform. All of them turned their heads as she approached the sink to wash up.

"Take a photo, it'll last longer," she quipped.

One of them, a Ravenclaw, ventured to ask, "Is it true you're doing it with _Snape_?" She said the name incredulously as if the idea were anathema.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yeah, I am." Glenna spun on the three, who instinctively took a step back. Slytherins were typically given wide berth under the best of circumstances. "If any of you pseudo-intellectuals or quasi-courageous shrews ever got down off your high horses long enough to get to know him, you wouldn't wonder why. Unlike the uncouth boys you go out with, he's thoughtful and smart and _better_!" She turned to flounce out, to find Lily standing inside the door listening to the whole thing.

"So it is true," said Lily spitefully. "You seduced him."

Glenna sneered as she moved closer to Lily, and her voice took on a low, menacing quality. "I didn't need to, he came very willingly."

"Just like Mulciber and who knows how many others," Lily spat back.

"Get off it, Evans!" Glenna seethed, eyes shooting daggers at the girl. "Nobody here believes you aren't bouncing the mattress with that Potter puke! You're just jealous because Severus used to hang after you like a puppy, and now he's chosen to move on like a man."

"I'm not jealous!"

"Really? Then why are you watching us all the time?" challenged Glenna. Receiving no answer, she smirked as she brushed by. "See you in Potions."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Wearing nearly identical somber expressions under their masks, Lucius and Severus Apparated outside the old, decrepit castle. The sight of others milling about was less than comforting. Lucius indicated for the boy to remove his mask as he removed his own and led the way inside, ignoring the rest of the Death Eaters. Catching sight of Lord Voldemort, he approached, knelt, and kissed his garment, then moved aside for Severus to do the same.

Getting to his feet, Lucius said, "Severus Snape is here, my lord, as ordered."

Severus hadn't yet gotten up when the Cruciatus hit him, sending him writhing and screaming across the floor while the other Death Eaters came running excitedly to see who was being taught a lesson.

Voldemort lifted his wand long enough to say with contempt, "My commands will be obeyed, Snape." Then he threw another _crucio_ at him. He held it for what seemed unbearably long, until even the Death Eaters had started to shift nervously, wondering if one of their own was to die tonight. At last the dark lord lifted his wand. Though Severus lay panting on the floor, he managed to wipe the tears off his face with a jerky movement of his arm.

"What have you learned, young Snape?" asked Voldemort, wand at ready lest the lesson be the wrong one.

"To obey," Severus choked out. "Forgive me, master."

"Much better. Children always behave better with swift, decisive discipline, don't they, Malfoy?"

"Yes, my lord. Always," Lucius agreed readily. It didn't faze him at all to have the master refer to his own series of punishments at the dark lord's hand when he'd been Severus' age. If this was the extent of what the boy would receive, that wasn't so bad. Lucius had suffered as much and more in his first few months as a Death Eater.

A flick of Voldemort's wand brought Severus to his knees, yet the man didn't address him. Instead he spoke over to Lucius, who stood stoically, face blank. "Did you inform our young friend of the consequences should he fail to comply with my demand this time, Lucius?"

"No, my lord! I believed you didn't mean it to be spoken," Lucius uttered truthfully, meeting the master's eye. "I told him only that he must come."

"Just so. It wasn't meant to be spoken." A crooked smile parted Voldemort's thin lips. "Why don't you tell him now?"

Lucius peered over at Severus, who was apparently having a difficult time of kneeling. Without altering his facial expression he murmured, "I was to kill you."

Severus dropped his head to avoid looking at any of them. He could hardly blame Lucius for the detestable order, one he'd have to carry out or suffer for himself, likely in the form of his own death and possibly the deaths of his loved ones. If it came down to it, Severus would beg Lucius to kill him over allowing the alternative. He compelled himself to nod humbly.

"As is only proper, my lord," he croaked, his voice rough from screaming. "The dark lord deserves our complete allegiance. Thank you, master, for chastising me." The words galled him, yet he pushed them out.

"You're most welcome, Severus. Rise now, you're to accompany some of our fold on a mission. We've discovered the location of another one of those filthy Order of the Phoenix members." Voldemort's unearthly pale face seemed flushed with anticipation. "Marlene McKinnon."

Lucius' stomach wadded itself into a knot. The last 'mission' he'd been on was to exterminate the Prewett brothers, and while he'd not performed the act himself, it still sickened him to think of it. "Am I to go along, my lord?"

"No, Lucius, your presence isn't required. Travers will be leading this one, and he's already chosen his squad—except for Severus, of course." He made a motion toward Severus and two Death Eaters lumbered over to pull him to his feet. Another wave of the master's wand removed a great deal of the residual pain from the Cruciatus. "Return to me with good news."

Lucius followed them as far as the doorway, then he heard the master's raspy voice once more, "Go home, Malfoy. No telling how long they'll be gone."

"Yes, my lord," he said mechanically. Only for Severus' sake had he even considered remaining, to make sure he was alright. Even if he'd been permitted to stay and wait, he had no desire to take part in the debauched celebration to follow. He went outside and Disapparated.

Severus Apparated next to a Death Eater whose face he couldn't see, for the six of them all wore their masks, though he doubted he knew the man anyway. He'd only become acquainted with Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan on his first trip to the dark lord. Travers he knew simply because Lord Voldemort had called him by name.

They all materialized on a street in what seemed a deserted area. While rows of houses lined the street, not a sound or movement could be discerned. Then Severus noted the boards across broken windows, the grass growing up in cracks of sidewalks, the crushed bulbs in the useless streetlamps. Wherever they were, it was not inhabited, at least not by the general populace.

Travers gathered them around and pointed to the house on the left at the far end of the strip. "The master said there are wards, but not strong ones. No blood wards. He's given me spells to break down whatever they might have."

Severus' heart skipped a beat. He was really here, part of a mission for the dark lord! So what if he'd been chastened earlier, he deserved it for not obeying. Now he had the chance to redeem himself! All he had to do was… Here he came up blank. He had no bloody idea what he was expected to do. Capture this Marlene McKinnon, perhaps?

He thought it a bit childish to tug on the robes of another to ask what he should do, so he merely walked along silently with them. When they reached the house, Travers positioned himself in front while motioning for the rest to surround the place, which they did with alacrity.

Travers pulled out his wand, pointed it at the house, and intoned, "_Brikan warten_." A circle of amber light flickered around the house and rose shimmering into the sky where it dissipated and disappeared. "_Krosa garde_." Another ring, this time deep purple, ascended and vanished. "_Reversus proteccio_." Nothing happened. "_Defensum splinte_." Again nothing. "_Lucan ontdoen_." A flash of fire soared around the home, blazed brightly, and slowly faded into a blue flame that ebbed into a gentle fizzle, then went out.

As one, five of the Death Eaters stormed the house, wands in hand. Severus, realizing the last spell had done away with any remaining wards, gripped his own wand as he ran behind Travers, who'd blasted open the door.

A frightened looking woman he assumed to be McKinnon faced them, casting hexes as fast as she could, to have them diverted by Travers to crash against walls and furniture with horrific noise. Severus pushed aside one of her charms to cast his own, which she deflected rather easily, surprising him. A man with his back to her was busy throwing spells in the other direction at the four Death Eaters closing in. Due to overwhelming odds, the battle was short. A hex from the side caught Marlene and knocked her to the floor, stunned. Another only moments later caused her husband to join her.

"Now we take them to the dark lord?" asked Severus excitedly. He hadn't considered what the dark lord might do with them, but if it's what he wanted…

A raucous laugh broke out among the Death Eaters, and one of them slapped him on the back in merriment. "Nice one, Snape!" He thought it sounded like Rabastan.

In answer to his question, Travers pointed his wand at the woman, who'd begun to sit up. A curse later, she lay back whimpering from a deep slash to her forehead that spilled blood down her face. "Have your fun, boys. And check the house, I believe there are more."

"No!" screamed Marlene, trying to get up. Her husband still lay unconscious.

Three of the Death Eaters scooted off to investigate the rest of the house, leaving Severus watching in numb dismay as Travers and the other Death Eater threw several dark spells at the husband and wife on the floor. Already the rug under them was sticky with blood from the many wounds inflicted. In revulsion it came to Snape: they were toying with them!

Moments later, the three Death Eaters returned from their search dragging two howling children with them. The girl looked to be four or five, the boy no older than eight. By God, they were younger than Severus' own brother and sister! The men tossed the children at their mother, who tried to reach out to them, only to be struck with a _crucio_.

The way the children wailed, Severus almost thought they'd been hit as well. The McKinnons had this coming, didn't they? The master wouldn't send them to harm innocent people. These people stood against the master, against Death Eaters, against rule by those fit to rule. But still…

"Let them go," he said to no one in particular. "They're just kids, they didn't do anything."

Travers' hand lashed out, backhanding him across the face. "Shut up!"

Seconds later, all four members of the family were squirming and screaming under the curse, while the fifth Death Eater tossed random damaging spells at one after the other of them. Flecks of blood from their wounds flew around as they writhed, striking anyone or anything in their path; in horror Severus gazed down at the scarlet drops against the black of his robes. The laughter of the wicked men over the pained shrieks of the family grated on Severus' ears and he tried to block it out, but he couldn't. He tried to leave, yet his feet seemed rooted to the spot, forcing him to witness the evil he'd willingly come to participate in. He turned his face away.

If he tried to stop them or interfere, they would kill him. He didn't need to think the words to grasp the truth of them. The adults had to die, he could accept that; there was no other way to win this war. But why the kids? Was the master aware that this was what went on when his Death Eaters were on a mission? Naturally he was! He was the most skilled Legilimens in the world, how could he not know? With a lump of bile rising in his throat, he had to accept the notion that the dark lord not only knew, but condoned the actions.

After what felt like an interminable space of time, the cries lessened. Shouts of _avada __kedavra_ rang out, and the room became as silent as a tomb. Because it was a tomb, Severus thought desolately.

"Snape!" someone shouted.

He turned to the voice, only to see a head rolling across the floor toward him, the head of a little girl. He fell to his knees, ripped off his mask, and began to vomit.


	21. Chapter 21

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-One

On wobbly legs Severus Apparated outside Malfoy Manor. If he'd thought he had a prayer of getting into the castle without being spotted—or worse, locked out—he'd have gone directly to Hogwarts. As it was, the only surefire method was by floo into Slughorn's room, so he stumbled up to the door where he hesitated, leaning against the frame for several minutes. He didn't want to go in, he didn't want to face Lucius. He didn't want to face anyone ever again after what he'd seen, what he'd participated in.

The door swung open of its own accord and Severus stared dumbfounded at a wand pointed only inches from his face. His instinct to back away was overridden by his desire not to antagonize the master of the house, and he merely extended his arms slowly away from his body in a sign of surrender.

"Take off that revolting mask," Abraxas ordered, his wand not wavering.

He forgot he'd put it back on! Severus reached a hand up, grabbed the mask, and tugged it off. "It's only me, sir," he murmured meekly.

A look of utter shock waxed across the older man's countenance, then he snatched the boy by the front of his robes and dragged him inside. A curt wave of his other hand slammed the door so hard it rattled on its hinges. "What do you think you're doing?" growled Abraxas.

"I-I needed to use the floo network," Severus stammered. "To go back to Hogwarts."

"Why are you dressed like that?" the man demanded, not letting go of him.

Severus hung his head and bit his lip, making no answer.

Wrong thing to do. Abraxas slapped him so hard across the cheek it would have knocked him down if the man hadn't been holding on to him. His teeth biting down into his lip ripped the flesh with the impact, causing a gash that dribbled blood over his chin.

In a barely controlled voice through clenched teeth, Abraxas said, "I asked you a question."

"I don't want to tell you!" Severus wailed, trying to pull free from the much sturdier and stronger wizard. Both of his hands tussled futilely against the lone paw gripping his robes.

In a heartbeat Abraxas had hold of the boy's left arm. He let go of Severus' robes to shove back the sleeve, and let out a pained gasp at the sight of the Dark Mark emblazoned in the pale flesh. He thrust the boy away from him. "How could you? _Why would you_?"

"I'm sorry," Severus croaked, feeling tears sliding down his face and being unable to stop them. "I didn't understand, Lucius tried to tell me and I wouldn't listen."

"Lucius knows?" asked Abraxas in astonishment that rapidly morphed into a simmering fury. Of course he knew. Why else would his best friend join that wretched, evil group of thugs? "When?"

"Right before this term of school started," Severus answered, wiping at his tears and smearing the blood on his chin.

Abraxas addressed the house elf who'd informed him of an intruder lurking outside; she was now cringing against the wall, ears drooping at her master's anger. "Sisidy, bring my son here."

Sisidy popped out, leaving the two quite alone.

"So Lucius drafted you for the cause," drawled the man sarcastically.

"No, sir!"

"Don't lie to me, Severus! It only pisses me off!" As if he weren't already far down that road.

"He didn't want—"

At that moment Lucius Apparated into the foyer. His inquisitive air fell with a crash, to be replaced by absolute dismay at seeing Severus in his Death Eater robes facing Abraxas. No words, only emotions swirled through his mind, none of them pleasant. Both of their heads swiveled toward him, then Abraxas took two steps over, raised his fist, and for the first time in his life punched his son in the jaw, staggering him.

"How dare you!" Abraxas thundered. "How dare you drag Severus into your filthy little clique of miscreants!"

Recovering his footing, Lucius lifted himself up. His father had slapped him innumerable times in the past, but never had he raised a fist to him. Frankly, it unnerved him more than anything else. Nevertheless, he calmly said, "Is that what Severus told you?"

"No, son, he claims you didn't, but I don't believe a word of it! He idolizes you, naturally he'd want to enlist, and you _let_ him! You repulse me!" He looked irate enough to strike again, prompting Lucius to inch away a bit.

"Father—"

"Lucius," said Severus softly. When his friend looked over at him, Severus shook his head slightly. "Let me tell him."

"Tell him, for all the good it'll do," remarked the young man, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to ignore his aching jaw.

"Mr. Malfoy, please don't blame Lucius. I approached him and asked him to introduce me to the dark lord. I'd been hanging around with guys at school who'd joined, and they made it sound so important, and…" He couldn't even justify it anymore, it made him sick to try. "Anyway, Lucius told me no, he wouldn't do it, and he warned me that I'd regret it. I kept pestering him, and I said one of the other guys would take me, so he finally gave in."

"You could have refused, Lucius," Abraxas insisted.

"Yes, sir," answered Lucius quietly. "I should have."

Severus peered over at Lucius, his voice taking on a coarse edge as he vividly recalled the night's repugnant escapade. "I'm sorry I made you, I was so pigheaded. You were right." He sucked in a hard breath to stave off the sobs attempting to break forth, but tears trickled down his cheeks anyway.

"Severus, what happened?" asked Lucius, moving toward him in concern. "I mean, I assume they were…dealt with." He glanced guiltily at his father.

Abraxas' scowl deepened. "Euphemism for murdered, son?" he spat out. "Who did you kill, Severus?"

"Nobody!" he cried as the tears started in earnest at the image of a little girl's head rolling toward him. He let out a high pitched wail and made a break for the sitting room, to the fireplace that would carry him away from these accusing eyes. Before he'd taken half a dozen steps Abraxas had his arm in a vise-like grip, whirling him around to face his wrath.

"You tell me now!" he shouted.

"It wasn't me!" Severus howled, twisting and squirming desperately. "They tortured them, the whole family! They were screaming…and the girl, her head—they cut it off! They killed them all," he sobbed, finally ceasing his struggle and becoming limp, with only an occasional shudder running through his body. "When we went back to the master, they jeered at me and mocked me, calling me a baby. Then they all…" His voice drifted off into ragged breathing.

Lucius stomach tightened, acknowledging what these men were capable of. His voice and eyes grew hard. "What did they do to you, Severus? I'll butcher them if they touched you."

"_Crucio_," he whispered. "They took turns using it on me. It seemed like such a long time, but it was probably for about an hour."

"The Cruciatus?" Abraxas interjected.

"Yes, Father, it's standard fare," Lucius replied. He'd told his father of the torments he'd undergone at the dark lord's hand, the primary one being the Cruciatus. It didn't surprise him one bit that Severus had been made to endure it, and he thanked God that was all he'd been made to endure. Or was it? "Is that all they did?"

Severus nodded. "The dark lord said I deserved it for pitying those who oppose him, but he's wrong. I deserved it for being there, for being one of them!" He angrily wiped a sleeve over the wetness on his face again. "When they got bored with it they left me lying there while they celebrated. I couldn't get up for a long time."

Abraxas swore under his breath and dragged a hand over his beard stubble. "Isn't there any way to get out of being a Death Eater?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Father," drawled Lucius. "It's called _death_. I believe we had this discussion once before."

"Don't get mouthy with me, boy, I'm not in the mood."

Enough said there. Lucius knew when to stop pushing, and now was the time. "Could I speak to Severus alone, please?"

Abraxas looked him up and down warily, wondering what secrets he planned to share, and if he should allow said secrets to be shared. Deciding that Lucius was unlikely to encourage Severus to depravity, he stalked off into the sitting room. Severus would have to come that way to leave the house, and he wanted a final word with him.

Lucius turned to his friend, grasping both his upper arms and looking directly into the deep black eyes. He'd anticipated it would be like this—well, not exactly like this, but he knew Severus wouldn't be spared watching people die. He should've warned him about that part. "This is hard, I understand that. When I first became a Death Eater, the master tortured me all the time and used my pain to force me to torture others. I despised myself, but I had no choice. I've seen lots of people die, in many terrible ways."

"Did you kill any of them?" asked Severus point blank.

"No. But I can't escape being there when it happens, and neither can you. You have to be strong, Severus. As disgusting as it sounds, you'll learn to keep a blank face and pretend it means nothing. We must serve him, we have no alternative except death, but the sooner we win this war, the sooner it'll be over and we won't have to do these terrible things anymore. We'll have power and respect, we'll live normal lives as the ruling class."

For a long moment Severus said nothing as he processed what Lucius was telling him. Distilled down, it meant he must do whatever he could to ensure victory quickly, to put an end to the reign of terror the Death Eaters lorded over the wizarding world…to end the torture and murder. If serving Lord Voldemort faithfully would bring a swift end to it all, then that's what he must do.

"Lucius, he won't make me kill people, will he?"

The other man shrugged tiredly. "I don't know. I don't think so, he has plenty of minions willing to do that, as you saw tonight. Make yourself useful in other ways so he won't be tempted. Make potions for him, gather information for him—whatever you can do."

"I was supposed to bring Regulus to him," Severus said.

"Yes. What about it?"

"I can't, not now. How could I do that to Regulus?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as if trying to discern whether Severus was taking the roundabout way to cast blame on him for agreeing to accompany him to the master. Probably not, he decided. Severus was an outspoken person, he'd plainly say what was on his mind. Even so, this was not good. Defying the master could only lead to pain. "The master already tortured you, he let others torture you—do you want it again, because that's what you'll get!"

Severus backed away from him, his own features hardening. "I don't care. Let him."

"He'll kill you!" Lucius exclaimed. It was like arguing with a brick wall, perhaps slightly less productive. The expression on Severus' face clearly said he honestly didn't care. "Fine. Whatever. Take off that robe before you go back to Hogwarts. And do _not_ talk to anyone about tonight."

"I'm not stupid, Lucius." He slipped off the robes, shrank them with his wand, and stowed them in his pocket. "You're cross with me, aren't you?"

"I'm not angry, I'm frustrated. You're an idiot, but you're my friend and I don't want to see you killed," snapped Lucius.

"I'll do my best to avoid it," replied Severus levelly. "I'll tell the dark lord Reg changed his mind. He can't blame me for that, can he?"

"Do you really think you can lie to him? He's a skilled Legilimens!"

The corners of Severus' mouth turned upward a hint. "I think I'll manage. Goodnight." He went on to the sitting room where Abraxas sat in an armchair sipping tea. The man looked up, set the cup on the side table, and fixed his gaze on the boy, making him very uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyeing the fireplace. "Mr. Malfoy, please forgive me."

"For what?" clipped the other.

"I can envision how you must feel. You worked so hard to save my life, you sacrificed a part of yourself, and then I throw my life away. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing."

"Spare me the excuses," said Abraxas without emotion. His unswerving gaze burned into the boy.

"I deeply regret all of it, and if I could go back, I would. Please don't hold your son accountable, he didn't—"

"What goes on between Lucius and myself is not your concern, boy. You have a good head on your shoulders, you're not a fool, yet one wouldn't know it from your actions. If you were my son, I'd…you'd be much sorrier than you are now." His lips pinched into a tight line.

"I'm not sure that's possible, sir, not to make light of the situation," Severus murmured, dropping his head. "If a thrashing from you could wipe away all this, I'd welcome it. As it stands, all I can do is try to end this war before too many more people are hurt. I admire and respect you, I'm dreadfully sorry to disappoint you." He stood there forlornly twisting the front of his robes in his hands.

Abraxas heaved a great sigh and motioned him over. When he stood up, Severus instinctively took a step back. "I can't deny I'm disappointed in you, as well as in my son. You're both better than this, but what's done is done. Now you must do as you said, try to bring about an end to this war."

"Yes, sir, I'll do my best."

"I think you can appreciate there's more than that," said the older wizard, seeming to struggle with some internal distress. He had a hard time forming the words that had never come easily to him. "You're not just some halfblood kid who's into trouble. I came to know you while you recuperated here. I…became fond of you. I don't wish any harm to befall you."

"Really?" asked Severus in surprise before realizing he'd said it aloud. "Thank you, sir."

"I also don't relish the idea of you harming others," the man went on.

"Me either," agreed Severus, still reeling from the unexpected confession.

"I asked this vow of Lucius, and now I ask it of you. Promise me that you won't ever raise your hand to kill someone unless your own life hangs in the balance." Abraxas' gray eyes pierced Severus, waiting.

"I promise, sir."

Abraxas nodded solemnly. "I'll hold you to it, Severus. You'd best get back to school." He extended a hand, which Severus shook.

"I don't take vows lightly, Mr. Malfoy, nor life, either. Goodnight, sir." He stepped into the fireplace and was gone.

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For the late hour, the Slytherin common room should have been empty. Instead, a meager few sat around studying, ignoring the couple making out off in a corner. Glenna lounged on a sofa near the fireplace staring into the flames. Severus had been called away by Slughorn hours ago. Where had he gone? Was something wrong?

She got up and paced as she'd done at intervals all evening, then headed for the door. She needed air, needed to get out of this place to clear her mind. It felt good to leave the oppressive dungeons behind, a fact she'd not mention to the other Slytherins, not even to Severus. She felt disloyal merely by thinking it, although there was no House she'd have chosen over her own.

Footsteps behind her made her turn sharply. "Oh, Jack! You scared me." The wand in her hand lent credence to her statement.

Mulciber gave a boyishly handsome smile and sauntered up next to her. "You shouldn't be out wandering alone."

"Why not?"

"You never know," he said cryptically. "Why are you out here?" He fell in step with her as they walked along.

"I was tired of sitting around the common room," Glenna answered. "The real question is why did you follow me?"

Mulciber grinned again and his eyes passed over her appreciatively. "To protect you, of course. Haven't you heard that You-Know-Who has an army out killing people?"

"Not at Hogwarts!" she scoffed. "And I'm a pureblood, they're not after me."

"True. But I am." He came to a halt, taking her wrist to stop her.

"Jack, let me go," said Glenna quietly. In the silence their voices seemed amplified.

"Glenna, I know you still care for me. I never stopped loving you," he murmured in a pleading tone, pulling her closer.

"I'm with Severus now."

"But if you weren't, you'd be with me, wouldn't you?" Mulciber insisted.

Glenna gave a light shrug. "I suppose I would. But—"

In one quick motion Mulciber pushed her up against the wall, his hands on her waist, his lips crushing hers. When she resisted, he pressed his body hard to hers, sandwiching her between himself and the cold stones as he kissed her in a frenzy of desire. Slowly she worked her hands up to his chest and with one hard shove managed to thrust him backward off of her.

"Don't you ever do that again!" she hissed. "I decide who I kiss, not you!"

"I could use the Imperious Curse on you," he answered hotly. "Then you'd do whatever I want."

"That's pathetic! If you have to resort to rape, _you're_ pathetic!" Glenna tried to move but he held her fast.

"I wouldn't do it, Glenna, because I love and respect you. If Snape is so wonderful, where is he? He leaves you by yourself worrying about him."

Here Glenna paused, unsure what to say. She didn't know where Severus was, or what he was doing, or who he was with. "It's not your business."

"Maybe he's off with another girl—"

Glenna raised a hand to slap him at the same instant a voice rang out from down the corridor. Oh, great—the world's gift, little miss Head Girl was coming toward them. She dropped her hand and put on her finest sneer.

Lily walked up to the pair with a knowing expression in her eyes. From far down the corridor she'd seen Mulciber and Glenna kissing, which didn't surprise her one iota. She always knew the snake couldn't be trusted. "Two Slytherins out of House after hours. Ten points from Slytherin." She got more joy from the words than she ought to have.

"Where's the rest of your horde, Evans?" said Glenna caustically. "Don't you Gryffindorks always travel in packs?"

Mulciber's snorted laugh echoed down the hall. "Nice shot, Glenna." Glenna smirked over at him.

The Head Girl wrinkled her nose at them. "I suggest you go back to your House, unless you want to lose more points."

"Don't let the dizzying power go to your head," sniped Mulciber. Taking Glenna by the elbow, he turned to go back the way they'd come.

Glenna shook her arm free of him as they walked, neither one deigning to look back to see whether Saint Evans was still watching them, and assuming she probably was. The loss of ten House points, while by no means disastrous, was galling; it was bad enough that teachers had it in for Slytherins without students being allowed to attack them as well!

"I hate her," Glenna seethed.

"And well you should," Mulciber agreed. "Especially since Snape's had a thing for the mudblood ever since I've known him."

They rounded a corner, at which point Glenna turned and smacked him in the chest. "Stop picking on Severus!"

"I'm not!" exclaimed the young man, throwing his hands up to ward off any more blows. "I'm just saying if he hurts you, I'm still here. I'd never cheat on you or hurt you."

Despite the implications against Severus, Glenna had to admit it was sweet of Jack. He'd always treated her well when they were together, and hadn't trashed her when they broke up, she couldn't complain at all about his behavior. But Severus treated her well, too, and he was interesting and exciting. "He's not going to hurt me, Jack. But thanks."

Mulciber smiled to himself. Tonight he'd not only succeeded in kissing Glenna, which he'd longed to do for months, he'd got her thinking about Snape's motives and loyalties. It was only a matter of time before they had a fight, and when they did Glenna knew she could find refuge in _him_. One day she'd be his again, and while it infuriated him to see her with Snape, he could wait. Because he had no choice, he would wait.

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Severus had avoided Regulus for a week. He'd have continued to do so if the little twerp hadn't hounded him down, followed him from the Great Hall right to his Ancient Runes class, and waylaid him before he could duck inside.

"Severus!" he said boisterously, turning the heads of everyone nearby. "I need to talk to you."

If he weren't afraid the boy would begin to speak vocally on subjects best left untouched in public, Severus would've ordered him away. As it was, he plodded over and fixed Regulus with a disconcerting scowl. "My class starts in a few minutes. Shouldn't you be at your own class?"

Regulus brushed it aside with a grin and a roll of his eyes. "Whatever. We need to plan. The Christmas holiday is coming up, when can you take me to—you know?"

Although Severus had expected this, even tried to prepare for it, Regulus wasn't one to be pushed aside; with his childlike openness he approached a topic and held on for dear life. Bluntly Severus said, "I'm not taking you."

"You promised!"

"And now I've changed my mind." He spun stiffly around, only to have Regulus grab him by the shoulder and whirl him back.

"Why? Did I do something?"

Swearing audibly, Severus dragged him off into a secluded corner and whispered harshly, "I found out firsthand what vile people the Death Eaters are, and I won't be responsible for subjecting you to it!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The master _crucio_'d the hell out of me, then sent me on a mission," hissed the other. "The ones with me tortured and murdered the McKinnons—you might've seen it in the _Daily__ Prophet_. Then they tortured me again when we got back. They're sick, sadistic people who—"

Regulus' face had paled at the mention of the McKinnons; he'd read all about the condition of the bodies and the Dark Mark in the sky to prove who did it. He nudged Severus to shut him up as his brother came sauntering up, fixing Snape with a purely malevolent glare.

"Snivellus, I thought I warned you to stay away from my brother."

"Shove it up your ass," Severus retorted, walking toward his classroom.

Sirius turned to Regulus with a self-satisfied smirk. "That comeback isn't up to his usual standards, is it? So, kid, are you a Death Eater yet?" He laughed, indicating he was aware of the restrictions Dumbledore had placed on him.

"Give it a rest, Sirius. Don't you ever get tired of being a pain in the neck?"

"Not really, no. Did Snivellus chicken out?"

"His name is Severus and he's not a Death Eater, I made it up to piss you off!" Regulus barked in the now-empty hallway. "I swear to God, I don't know why somebody hasn't turned you into a frog by now! You're f—king annoying!"

"At least I don't aspire to be a baby killer," Sirius shot back.

"No, you just get mum and dad riled enough at your mudblood-loving ways to question _my_ loyalty, so you can ruin _my_ life like you did yours! Why can't you just leave me alone!"

Sirius stepped back as if struck. "If that's what you want," he said coldly.

"It is," Regulus answered every bit as coldly.

With a toss of his head, Sirius spun on his heel and strode away. Regulus stayed put for quite some time, fuming. If it weren't for his stupid brother's disobedience and betrayal of the family, Regulus wouldn't have to prove himself, he wouldn't have to become a Death Eater. Now that Severus had outlined rather starkly what it entailed, he had absolutely no desire to join, yet what alternative did he have? He certainly didn't want to be disowned like Sirius, but he noticed the way his parents watched him when he was home, as if looking for an excuse to pounce on him. It was all Sirius' fault.

He pushed himself away from the wall, made his way to his room, and took out a parchment and quill. He delicately rolled the quill between his palms while formulating in his mind what he wanted to say, then he dipped into the ink and began to write.


	22. Chapter 22

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Two

Rodolphus rolled the letter over in his hands, marveling as he read it over once more. A pleased grin split his rugged face, a grin he was grateful Bella wasn't there to see. He felt flattered, honored even, that he'd be asked to play such an important role, although there was no way in heaven or hell he'd accept the offer. He valued his life a little more than that. With a quick wave of his wand he incinerated the parchment.

As he contemplated the response he must make, his euphoria dimmed. He liked the kid, but… He went over to the desk nestled in the corner of his cramped sitting room, brushed aside the dust and junk accumulated there, and pulled a fresh parchment from one of the desk drawers. Dipping one of the ragged quills laying on top, he wrote:

_Dear Regulus,_

_You do me great honor in asking me to escort you. Although I'm glad you've reconsidered going with the other boy, I must decline. I agree that family deserves the glory, but if Bella finds out you chose me over her—well, I think you can imagine! Neither of us would escape unscathed. My advice is to write Bella here, and I'll take it to her. Over the holiday I'm sure you'll get your wish._

_Rodolphus_

He tied the note to his owl's leg, giving the bird an affectionate pat on the head. "Regulus Black, Hogwarts School."

He wondered idly when Bella would be home. Since the master had moved to Scotland, she'd not returned even once. If nothing else, this should bring her back for a day or two, certainly long enough for him to claim his husbandly rights. Or grovel for them. Whatever.

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Christmas Eve. As with every other year in his memory, Abraxas was hosting a Christmas festivity for the pureblood community and, like every other year, he wished the evening was over so he could spend some time with his family. He held the parties only for tradition's sake; his enjoyment seemed to wane a bit each season. Perhaps next year he'd schedule the event for two days before Christmas.

As he pondered this, the Averys chattered away to him, and he alternately looked concerned or nodded at the appropriate times. That son of theirs bore watching, he remembered. At Lucius' coming of age celebration he'd come upon the boys grappling on the floor of a parlor, Lucius' wand poked menacingly in the other boy's chest. A small rustling to his left distracted him; Sisidy peered up at him with humongous doe eyes.

"What is it, Sisidy?"

"Master Malfoy, Mr. Severus is come. He asks for Master."

Abraxas shot his guests a so-sorry-I-must-leave-this-fascinating-conversation look, made a polite bow of his head, and excused himself. He followed the elf's pattering feet into the empty sitting room where Severus stood ill at ease next to the fireplace, his clothing covered in soot that he was attempting to brush off. Abraxas suppressed a rueful frown; the poor kid had absolutely no idea how to dress or behave at a high-society function.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, appearing much relieved to see someone he knew. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, Severus," answered the man, his discerning eye taking in the shabby robes. He knew Lucius had been paying the lad for his potion work, and could only surmise the money had been spent on those things even more important than clothing. Taking Severus by the arm, he led him to the enormous tree in the center of the room, bent down, pushed aside a couple of packages, and straightened up holding a box, which he handed to the boy. "Open it."

Severus' eyes flitted from the box to Abraxas and back again. "You didn't have to."

"I know," said Abraxas, struggling to hold back a gleeful grin.

Severus lifted the top of the box. Inside, neatly folded, lay a fine black, expensive suit of dress robes. His jaw dropped as he fingered the smooth, exceedingly soft material. The Malfoys themselves wore clothing like this! "Mr. Malfoy, I—this is too much, it must've cost a fortune."

The grin won out, then spread into a full blown smile. "I can well afford it, Severus. Why don't you put them on? This is a festive occasion, after all." At the boy's downcast eyes, his mirth faded. Had he insulted him by inadvertently denigrating the clothes he had on? Did Severus think he was lording his wealth over him? "Severus, I meant no offense."

"Oh, I realize that, sir," said Severus, meeting his eye. "But I have nothing for you. I didn't expect this."

"If you gave me a gift in return, it would only diminish the pleasure I gain from giving this to you," explained Abraxas in earnest. "If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't."

"Yes, sir. Thank you very much." Hugging the box to his chest, Severus glanced around for a place to change. "Do you think you could bring Lucius and Narcissa. I do have a little something for them."

"I'll summon them. And you're very welcome." He pointed down the hallway. "There's a bathroom."

Almost at a run Severus scurried down the hall, ducked into the bathroom, and stripped off his outer cloak and his old clothes, letting them drop to the floor. With infinite care he removed the new robes from the box, rubbing them against his face to feel and enjoy the softness he'd never experienced before. To date, the only softness he'd had from clothing was when the material had worn so thin that it was quite soft—and quite see-through. He slipped on the trousers, which reached precisely to rest on his shoes without puddling; he buttoned the high necked, narrow-sleeved tunic shirt. When he was dressed, he continued to caress the sleeves as he peeked at his reflection. Both were a perfect fit, as though they'd been tailor made for him. His eyes widened and he caught his breath to think they might truly have been made just for him! Quickly he shoved his old robes into the box and hurried back to the sitting room where he dumped it next to the fireplace.

Narcissa came around from the other side of the tree, her spaghetti strap, form hugging red dress making her incredibly radiant. "Severus, is that you? You look positively charming!"

Severus ducked his head and blushed. "Hi, Narcissa. Mr. Malfoy—"

"Lucius, come over here," interrupted Abraxas, waving to his son. "Severus wants to give you something."

Lucius, who'd been on his way in, stepped it up and came over to shake his friend's hand. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"To you as well, and to Narcissa," he responded. He reached into the breast pocket of his robes and his expression turned from bewilderment to alarm. He patted at all of his pockets until Abraxas motioned subtly toward the fireplace where the box set. He backed up, rifled through the box, placed his wand in his pocket, and then presented a scroll of parchment that had been rolled and secured with a dark green ribbon. "Merry Christmas."

Lucius and Narcissa glanced quizzically at each other and smiled. Narcissa took the parchment, loosed the ribbon, and unrolled it with Lucius watching over her shoulder. It said simply: _My rat is pregnant._

Eyebrow raised, Lucius remarked tentatively, "Congratulations?"

"Lucius!" Narcissa exclaimed, afraid to get her hopes up only to have them dashed. "Does it mean what I think, Severus?"

Severus nodded, smirking, and she threw her arms around him with a delighted sob. His arms folded around her.

"Hey, that's my wife," Lucius sulked. "It's just a rat!"

Narcissa peeled herself away from Severus and looked at her husband. "Honey, it means we're going to have a baby! His potion works!"

Lucius' heart leaped and he blinked rapidly in astonishment. With a whoop of exultation he snatched Narcissa in his arms and whirled her around before setting her gently down to kiss her passionately. Next he went to shake Snape's hand, shook his head instead while smiling like a goofball, and crushed his friend in a hard embrace. "Thank you, Severus!"

"You're…hurting me," Severus squeaked.

Immediately Lucius let up and went back to hugging his wife.

Abraxas, who'd watched in delighted wonder from the background, came forward to offer his hand to the lad, his eyes misty. "Good job, son. Lucius had every confidence in you."

"I did my best," conceded Severus modestly. "As much as I hate to break up this love fest, I need to explain a few things." The thrilled couple stopped snogging to turn his way. "Narcissa, the medi-witch's tests revealed hereditary damage to your organs. This potion will correct it temporarily, but it takes time to work, so please don't expect to get pregnant in a month."

"How long then?" she asked.

"Well, rats are obviously different from humans, their cycles are different. I'm estimating a year, maybe a year and a half."

"Oh." Narcissa's joyous mood came down several notches, but Lucius took her hand and squeezed gently.

"But it _will_ happen," Lucius confirmed, eyeing his friend.

"Yes, I'm quite certain it will."

Looking rather pensive, Abraxas asked, "What do you mean by the potion 'temporarily correcting' the problem?"

Severus faced the man, probably the only other person in the room who fully understood what he'd been up against in creating the brew. "Narcissa's body will continue to regenerate in the same impaired fashion it always has. The potion merely pushes the damage back bit by bit until the body is normal enough to conceive, but her body will revert back once she stops taking the potion, which is upon conception."

"Can't she just continue taking it indefinitely after that?" asked Lucius.

Severus shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea, not until it's been tested long term."

"But we can still have _one_ child, right?" Lucius persisted.

"Yes, she should be able to conceive fairly easily once the damage is repaired enough. I just don't really believe it would be safe to use it more than once, especially right after a birth. This potion is strong, and it works against what the body desires." He shrugged one shoulder. "I admit, when you first asked me to make a potion, Lucius, I didn't hold out any hope for Narcissa conceiving; now I'd be willing to make a large wager on it."

"I didn't know you were a gambler," joked Lucius.

"I'm not," said Snape seriously. "I only bet if I know I'll win." Once more he went back to dig through the box and came back carrying a small cobalt vial. He handed it to Narcissa. "Take two drops of this under your tongue every morning. I'm currently making a large batch to last for three or four months. And stop taking the other potion."

"Thank you, Severus," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Make me the kid's godfather and we'll be even," he smirked, black eyes shining.

Lucius clapped one hand on his shoulder. "Done. Only I'm still paying for the potion ingredients and your time."

"There's not that much time involved now that I know the formula."

Abraxas put one hand on Severus' shoulder, the other on his son. "I think I speak for all of us when I say no amount of money is sufficient to repay you for a child. Don't argue, Severus." He turned partway around to draw Narcissa into the group. Looking from one to another of the happy faces, he gave a sigh of contentment. This day had turned out smashingly after all. At long last there was hope for an heir!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The Christmas celebration having wound down, the guests began to leave for their own homes. Severus, throwing his new cloak from Narcissa around his shoulders, said his goodbyes to the glowing couple, though he hung around hoping to see Abraxas once more. What with the new robes and cloak—and the boots Lucius had given him, he had the distinct impression they were trying to tell him something. Catching a glimpse of Abraxas across the room showing another couple out, he made his way over, pulling a parchment from his pocket as he walked.

"Severus, I wish you the best of holidays!" boomed the man jovially. "You're off, then?"

"Mr. Malfoy, I should give you this." He handed him the paper.

Abraxas unfolded it and studied the handwriting which consisted of a long list of ingredients together with specific instructions on how to handle and prepare each one. Finally came the directions for brewing the potion, every detail meticulously noted in the text with supplementary instructions in the margins.

"May I ask what this is for?" queried the man.

"It's Narcissa's potion. I thought you should have it—you know, in case anything were to happen to me. You and Professor Slughorn are the only ones I'd trust to brew it accurately."

The matter-of-fact way in which he discussed 'something happening' to him made Abraxas' stomach grip. It was more likely a matter of _who_ might happen to him, and they both knew the answer to that. "Thank you, I'll keep it safe. Severus, is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, sir. Merry Christmas." He smiled, turned on his heel, and headed back to the fireplace where he'd left his clothes. If only Mr. Malfoy _could_ help! But no, soon he'd have to face the master alone and explain why Regulus wouldn't be coming…hopefully the dark lord wouldn't be too upset. And if he was, at least Narcissa and Lucius wouldn't suffer for it.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Tom Riddle had never liked pajamas. As a boy in the orphanage he'd worn them only because it was mandated. At Hogwarts he'd worn them because the other boys did and he wanted to blend in. When he'd become a man living on his own, he'd eschewed the wretched things in favor of sleeping in the nude, something no one except Bellatrix had ever known.

Bella returned from her short visit to see her husband and the rest of the Blacks and crept into Voldemort's bedroom mere days after Christmas. The wards guarding their headquarters responded to the Dark Mark on her arm; the wards around his bed being virtually impenetrable, she stood forlornly watching him as he slept, her sharp eyes caressing the length of his body. He'd kicked the covers off, as he often did, giving her plenty to view, and she took the opportunity to crouch on a nearby chair as she fantasized about stroking his chest and…everywhere.

Regardless of how often they'd consummated their…relationship…it was never enough. Bella felt an emptiness in her soul pulling her to him like a magnet. Even when she breathed, she desired to inhale the master. Rodolphus, for all of his brother's ribbing, understood her need, he didn't try to stand in her way. That was one reason she could stomach Rodolphus, perhaps even like him enough to grant him access once in a while.

Voldemort shifted in his sleep and she smiled—not the sneering, cruel smile she used for everyone else, but a tender smile only _he_ might see. She curled up in the armchair and laid her head on the arm of it, closing her eyes to wait for the dawn. In the morning all would be well again.

"Bellatrix!"

Bella jumped out of the chair and promptly dropped like lead to the floor. Apparently her legs had fallen asleep while she dozed. Crawling, or more aptly dragging herself by her arms while trying to flail her useless legs, she made her way to where Lord Voldemort stood by his bed, naked as the day he was born. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Master, you're awake! What time is it?" By now she'd managed to stagger upright on her spiky heels, trying to ignore the sensation of pins and needles shooting through her extremities like…well, like pins and needles.

"Why didn't you wake me when you arrived?" he demanded. His red eyes took on a near glow in the early morning light trickling in from a high window.

_Because you looked so adorable_, she mused, quickly banishing it from her mind. Dark lords are ferocious, not adorable! "I thought you'd get angry."

Voldemort lifted her chin with long, slim fingers. "Do I become angry when you serve me faithfully?"

"No, my lord." Her breath came short and quick, and she trembled faintly, not from fear but from anticipation.

"Do you wish to serve me now?" Was he teasing her?

A quick glance down told her he was not. "Always," she whispered, and lunged for him.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_No! Not now_, Severus cursed inwardly at the burning, throbbing pain in his left arm. The master was calling him. "Glenna, I'm sorry, I have to go. The dark lord is summoning me."

He kissed her and threw back the covers to get up, grumbling audibly as he dressed. It wasn't fair, this was only the second time he'd got to see Glenna since Christmas holiday started, and now it was being ruined!

"Do you have to go immediately?" she purred, drawing him back down to her. "Let's finish, then you can go."

"I can't. He's not very tolerant about disobedience." Severus shuddered as he recalled the last time he'd been taught a lesson on obedience. From his pocket he drew forth the soiled Death Eater robes he had with him at all times, enlarged them with his wand, scourgified them, and donned them. "If I can, I'll come back tonight, okay?"

"Alright," Glenna agreed resentfully. You-Know-Who had a terrible sense of timing! She knelt up to kiss him hard, then he Disapparated.

The wind around the crumbling castle bit through his robes, chilling him to the core. Unlike last time, there was no one milling about in the dark, which didn't comfort him. Likely the master wanted to set up a new date for bringing Regulus, which could prove to be an exciting, if not enjoyable, evening. He raised his left arm as they'd done last time, allowing him to pass unmolested into the interior. No one was waiting inside.

"My lord!" he called, then veered left into the large meeting room where he'd been tortured mercilessly by the group of Death Eaters. He clenched his teeth at the memory. "Master, your servant is here!"

Voldemort Apparated behind him and in his high voice hissed, "Severus. Have a seat."

Severus glanced around quickly. There were no chairs, so he sank to the floor where he was. It crossed his mind that he should be making obeisance, yet the dark lord had already gone out through the door, leaving him alone. It unnerved him inasmuch as perhaps he wasn't required to bow and scrape because a more entertaining agenda had been planned, with himself the guest of dishonor.

The minutes ticked away ever so slowly. The cold stone under his rear made him shift uncomfortably until he was on his knees, then sitting back onto his heels. _Just come and do__ whatever you're going to do_, he pleaded silently. The waiting in itself was torture. He thought rather insolently that he _should_ have finished his business with Glenna before rushing here to be ignored.

Eventually Voldemort strolled back into the room and halted right in front of him. Without a moment's hesitation, Severus bent forward to kiss his garment, then stayed down, not sure what to do. He felt the glare of the master's eyes on his back, a skin-crawling sensation.

"Rise," ordered Voldemort.

Severus stood up shakily, his knees and ankles cramped from kneeling so long on the hard floor. "You summoned me, my lord."

"I'm aware of that, Snape. I'm also aware you're on holiday from school, yet you didn't feel it necessary to bring the Black boy. Why is that?" Voldemort tilted his head slightly in a parody of bemusement while his cold eyes shot into Severus.

Memories swarmed to the front of the boy's mind at Voldemort's Legilimens touch, yet he dared not hinder them. The sedition the man sought would not be found; those memories had been locked away in hidden compartments of Severus' brain long before coming here. Even so, the ransacking of his innermost being constituted nothing less than mental rape, causing feelings of shame and violation.

Sensing these emotions, Voldemort's cruel mouth curved into a smile. He wished he could physically hold these oh-so-precious memories in one hand and crush them while Snape watched, particularly the ones involving the little redheaded mudblood. It would be most amusing.

"I thought I asked you a question," crooned the older wizard, letting go of the lad's thoughts.

Severus felt his brain drifting back into place as things took on their normal focus. "I didn't bring him because he changed his mind, my lord. I didn't believe you'd appreciate an unwilling offering," he said smoothly, spouting the lie he'd made up in his head for this moment, along with the false memory he'd implanted for proof.

"Bellatrix!" said Voldemort, staring at the doorway.

Severus craned his neck to see her come strutting in, sneering—with Regulus in tow! He let out a gasp, his mind whirling in confusion and horror tinged with fear. After everything he'd told the little fool, he still insisted on coming here! What had Regulus told them? Had he tattled on Snape, that he'd refused to bring him? Had the master known all along that he was lying?

"Reg, what—you—why," he stammered incoherently. _Oh, God, I'm going to die_!

Bella made her usual groveling consisting of a prolonged series of kisses to Voldemort's garment while her hands frantically sought contact with his shins, which gave her a sigh of pleasure. She then moved off to permit her cousin to come forward.

"My lord, I present to you Regulus Black, pureblood of the noble House of Black."

Amid his extraordinarily calm bout of hysteria, Severus heard what she said. She was presenting Regulus—that meant he hadn't said anything yet…probably. His dismay didn't diminish when Regulus inched forward until he was beside Severus, though the boy didn't look his way. If anything, the proximity made Severus' angst all the more pronounced.

Voldemort studied the newcomer in a condescending manner, then peered over at Severus while he questioned the younger boy. "Regulus Black. How old are you?"

"Sixteen, my lord, but I would've tried to come earlier if I could. I've kept an eye on your activities for years."

"Did you not agree with Snape here that the two of you would come together?"

"Yes, sir," said Regulus, ducking his head and grinning sheepishly. He seemed remarkably at ease. "But I told him I decided not to. It seemed more appropriate to ask Bella, since she's your most loyal follower, and my own cousin."

"Did you tell him you'd asked Bellatrix?"

"No, my lord. I didn't see that it was his business."

Voldemort paused to compare the boys' statements. Finding no obvious discrepancies, he remarked dryly, "Which explains Snape's consternation at seeing you here. You may close your mouth, Severus."

Severus clamped his mouth shut. Was it possible he'd escaped punishment? Had Regulus heard his lie and merely expounded on it, or was he making it up all on his own, with overlaps that happened to be fortunate for both of them? Or was he building up to spilling everything in order to see Snape squirm? _Keep your face impassive_, he commanded himself.

"Why do you come here, Regulus?"

"To fight for the rights of purebloods, my lord," said Regulus clearly, proudly.

If Severus hadn't known better, he'd have believed the boy to be serious. Sure, he was always spouting that drivel along with most of Slytherin House, but he'd never demonstrated any desire to act on it. Even when he asked Severus to escort him, his reasons had been muted and convoluted, concentrated mostly around that scum brother of his.

"When you serve me, it is completely, boy. No barriers, nothing reserved."

"I understand, master. May I have the honor to become your follower?"

"Kneel and extend your left arm."

A moment later the familiar scream of the branding reverberated off the walls and Regulus lay huddled on the floor holding his arm. "Thank you," he gasped.

"Severus," hissed the master softly, drawing him away from the moaning boy. "I have a task for you. Have you heard of the _brinnan durstig_ potion?"

The young man searched his mind through all the Dark Art potions he knew. If he'd come across it in reading, it escaped him now. "No, master, I don't think I have."

"Research it and find the formula, then make it for me," ordered the man.

"As you wish, my lord," Severus replied, bowing low. "I'm always pleased to serve."

"You may go now." With a little leer, Voldemort added, "Go back to your girlfriend. I'm sure she's waiting to pick up where you left off."

At Severus' abashed blush, the man laughed out loud. Severus sorely regretted not using Occlumency for _that_ part of his life; now every time the master decided to sift his brain, he'd have to leave it open for inspection. "Thank you, my lord. I'll accomplish my assignment as soon as possible."

He bowed again and hurried out. He'd done it, he'd fooled the greatest Legilimens on Earth! If he hadn't, he wouldn't be standing here now, of that he was absolutely certain. It was exhilarating! And regardless of whether Lord Voldemort knew where he was going or not, he was quite pleased to have time to visit Glenna. He smiled as he Disapparated.


	23. Chapter 23

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Three

"Severus, take the twins down to the playground," his mother said to the teenager slouched on the sofa watching television.

He grunted in response and flipped the channel.

"This is your last day home, you go back to school tomorrow," she went on, walking over to stand at the foot of the couch and glare at him.

"I don't feel like it," Severus muttered sullenly. He hadn't moved one bit.

Eileen, hands on hips, clipped at him in a near screech, "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you! Get up this minute!"

"Would you shut your nagging, mum!" he barked back, instantly mortified by what he'd said, by his tone, his disrespect. His back straightened and his eyes widened, made worse by the expression of disbelief and hurt on Eileen's face.

Before he had the chance to apologize, a heavy hand from behind wound tightly through his hair and lifted him straight into the air with a pained yelp. Tobias, who'd stormed in from the kitchen at hearing his son's impudence, shook the boy violently until it seemed his hair might rip right out at the roots, then dropped him back onto the couch.

"If you ever talk to your mother like that again, I'll knock your teeth down your throat," he growled.

"Yes, sir," Severus answered meekly. "I'm sorry, mum, I didn't mean it."

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Severus," Eileen lamented. "You used to enjoy spending time with your sister and brother."

Defensive that his love for his siblings be questioned, he said, "I still do." His scalp burned and ached though he didn't dare rub at it.

Tobias took his wife's shoulders, pointed her toward the cramped back garden, and said, "Go get them. Severus is takin' them to the park, aren't ya, son?"

"Apparently," Severus responded softly. _Don't get him mad_, he cautioned himself.

When Eileen had gone, Tobias came around the sofa to face Severus, his features set in irritation. "So you're eighteen now. That don't mean diddly-shit to me, boy. You'll treat your mum and me with respect, I don't care if you're f—king eighty-five!"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled again. Too late on the anger thing. He knew from experience to tread lightly when his father used that particular word that meant he was highly incensed.

"And just coz you'd rather be out shaggin' your little girlfriend don't mean you got no responsibilities here!" Tobias continued, his voice raised dangerously close to a roar. The man gave a withering stare at the incredulous look on his son's face. "You think I don't know what a boy'll do if a girl lets him? That's what you're doin', ain't it?"

Shamefaced to be cornered like this, Severus retorted with a scowl, "It's not like that. I care about her."

Tobias snorted. "You'd best watch your step. There's plenty of wenches lookin' to trap a man, and if you're dimwit enough to shag 'em, you deserve to get caught."

"Who's shagging somebody?" asked Julius as he ran in from outside. "You, Severus?"

"Shut up," Severus grumbled, rising to his feet. "You don't even know what it means."

"Do, too."

"You do not!" Severus shouted. "Stop talking about it!"

Surprisingly, Tobias interceded on behalf of Severus. "Julius, leave him be. You and Tina mind him or I'll skin ya when ya get back, understand?"

"Yes, dad," the boy sulked. Under his breath as he brushed by Severus he hissed, "Do, too."

Severus led the children out into the foul smelling air from the factory and the putrid river. He scarcely noticed it now, though every time he came home from school it took days to grow accustomed to it again. The kids automatically began to race in the direction of the park, and Severus let them. Even from a distance, he could protect them with his wand. He watched them as they ran, noticed how they seemed taller, which was to be expected; they were nine already. Time passed so quickly when he was away.

His thoughts drifted to Glenna. He wished she'd meet him at the park for some old fashioned snogging, yet even if he had an owl to notify her, he wouldn't. The kids would never let him hear the end of it if they caught him making out. Dad was wrong, he wasn't with Glenna only for sex, and she wasn't the type to try to trap him. Was she? He swore out loud.

"Thanks a lot, dad, for planting that seed in my head," he spat.

At the park he seated himself on one of the swings, gently kicking off and gliding back and forth as he kept a distracted eye on the children. For the most part he scarcely saw them, so wrapped up in his own ruminations that when a woman approached the two, it didn't fully register at first. Then he leaped up, wand out in a purely reflex action. When the woman turned to where the kids were pointing, her face aimed directly at Severus and he lowered the wand.

It was Lily, and she was coming toward him, her red hair shining in the sun. All at the same time he wanted to flee, to rant at her to go away, and to snatch her into his arms. The latter made him feel ashamed; he shouldn't be thinking things like that when he had Glenna. _She_ made it clear how she felt about him, _she_ took interest in his life, _she_ didn't judge him constantly. And yet his ridiculous heart ached as he watched Lily wending her way to him. Why did she wield such power over him? Was it because she'd been his first love and he'd never truly gotten over her? At times he wished he could carve his heart out completely, and if his body would function without it, he would. Life would be so much simpler that way.

"Hi, Severus," she called from a few meters off.

"Hi, Lily," he responded in a monotone. He backed up and flopped onto the swing.

"I saw your brother there and he reminded me so much of how you looked at his age," Lily said, drawing quite near. "I thought you might be here with him."

"Your powers of deductive reasoning astound me," Severus answered dryly. His gaze focused past her, on the children. It was easier not to look at her.

"How was your birthday?" she asked.

She'd remembered his birthday, which had passed two days ago. It both flattered and annoyed him. She'd broken off their relationship, she'd refused to listen to his pleas, she had no right to ask him anything! "It was fine. Dad's drinking a lot less now." Why did he tell her that?!

"Do your parents still argue all the time?"

"Not as much. Lily, what do you care? As you pointed out at Halloween, we're not friends anymore," he said, turning to stare at her with more than a hint of hostility. "Maybe you'd better go before I taint you with my evil."

"I never said you were evil, Severus! I said the boys you hang around with are," she corrected him.

"What's the difference?"

"Well if you don't know…" she said with a slight smile.

Damnable hell, of course he didn't know! He never knew what was going on in that red head of hers! Through gritted teeth Severus asked tightly, "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" She had the audacity to look bemused.

"Talking to me, pretending to like me, acting like things are like they used to be!" he exclaimed. "Did _Potter_ put you up to it so he could laugh at Snivellus? Are they hiding somewhere, watching?"

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Damn it, Lily, cut the crap! You've barely spoken to me for almost two years, and now you're suddenly interested in how I'm doing? I'm not stupid, I don't believe you and I don't trust you anymore! I don't trust anybody who'd hang around with those bullies who call themselves 'Marauders'!"

"Severus—"

"Don't! You talk about my friends like they're the scum of the earth, but yours are every bit as bad and worse because they act like it's all in fun when it's vicious and cruel! At least we're honest about who we are."

Severus left off, panting in fury. She'd shattered his heart and his illusions once, why couldn't she leave it at that and leave him alone? She'd made it very clear they weren't friends, so what were they? Nothing. And if they were nothing, she had no business horning into his life just to remind him that he was nobody and she was dating his mortal enemy!

"I didn't realize you hated me," Lily said stiffly, pursing her lips.

Severus let out a mirthless laugh. "That's a good one. I never hated you. As I recall, I begged and pleaded for your forgiveness, which I never got." A deafening silence on Lily's part assured him that he still was not forgiven, else she'd have contradicted him. She was so good at that. "And now here you are… why don't you tell me what I'm supposed to think?"

There was a long pause during which Severus could almost see Lily's mind working behind her glorious, despicable green eyes. "I don't want us to be enemies," she said finally.

"Fine, we're not enemies. Mission accomplished," Severus replied with a hint of a sneer. "Anything else?"

A frown tugged at her mouth, causing her brows to dip along with it. "As your… not enemy, I think I ought to warn you about Glenna. I saw her kissing Mulciber in the hallway before Christmas break started."

Severus' stomach lurched for his throat and he shoved it down, his face impassive, his hands beginning to shake ever so little. So that was it! She went through all of this to dump on Glenna, to hurt _him_! "And you think I don't know about it? Glenna's very open with me."

Astonished, Lily replied, "That's so understanding of you. I figured you more as the jealous type."

_I'll bet you did_! Two could play this game. "Figured or hoped?" asked Severus wickedly, intentionally leering at her.

Evidently not expecting that, she backed away in disgust. "Never mind. You deserve her!" She whirled and hurried away.

As soon as she was gone, Severus bent over double on the swing, his insides a mass of roiling emotions; he felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Lily was lying, she was trying to break them up, that was it. But why would she? She had the _Potter_ bastard, and she'd run off quickly enough when he feigned making a play for her. If Lily didn't want him—and it was painfully obvious she didn't—why should she care who he dated? And since they were hardly on good terms, why would it bother her if Glenna was unfaithful? But what if she _wasn't_ lying; what if Glenna had been kissing that jerk Mulciber? They'd dated most of the previous year, they had a history—yet Glenna seemed so content with _him_! No, Lily was lying, he decided. One way or the other, he'd know tomorrow when he got back to school.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Comfortably seated aboard Hogwarts Express, Regulus waited for someone he knew to come in and join him. He absently rubbed at the Mark under his sleeve; it was no longer tender, yet still so new he hadn't become accustomed to it. Everyone had been mightily pleased at his decision, not the least of which were his parents, who'd fussed over him and congratulated him. He'd even noticed the radical change in their attitude; home felt warmer, there wasn't the breath-sucking air of suspicion hanging over his head anymore. And Bellatrix—she'd practically done cartwheels when she Apparated to his house to talk to him about his decision.

The compartment door slid open and Snape came in to sit opposite him, which Regulus thought odd. Snape had been Apparating or flooing to Hogsmeade for over a year, he avoided the train like the plague. Regulus gave a weak smile.

"Hey, Severus. I thought you loathed the train."

"I wanted to talk to you in private," answered Severus, casting a locking spell on the door, followed by a silencing bubble.

It seemed too blatantly disingenuous to ask 'about what?', so Regulus remained silent.

Severus fixed him with a hard, unwavering stare. "Do you have any idea how close you came to getting me killed?"

"What? No!"

"I told the master you'd changed your mind, and here you come prancing in like—"

"I don't prance," Regulus grunted.

"You showed up, you idiot, after everything I told you! What's wrong with you? If your story hadn't matched mine at least marginally, the dark lord would've _avada kedavra_'d my ass, and probably yours as well!"

"How was I supposed to know you were there when I came?" Regulus blurted, though his eyes revealed surprise at the revelation. "Sorry for almost, you know.."

The older boy shook his head. "Why? You didn't have to do it."

"I know you can't understand it, Severus, but I _did_ have to, and I'm glad I did. My family loves me again, I don't have to worry anymore." He lowered his voice, an unnecessary precaution with the silencing charm in effect. "If I'm ordered to do terrible things, I'll try to get out of it. If I'm not, I'm still part of the group. Severus, it's not your problem. You didn't present me to the dark lord, so don't feel bad about it."

Severus shrugged. There was nothing to be done now, he was a Death Eater, and what he said was true. If Regulus was tortured or if he performed vile acts, at least it wouldn't be because Severus had participated in making him what he was. Nonetheless, they were still friends of a sort, and he felt bad for him. He now understood with remarkable clarity the agony Lucius must have endured when Severus insisted he accompany him to become one of the wretched beasts.

"Just try to lay low," he advised. "If I can help you, let me know." He got up to go.

"Don't you wanna stay?"

"I have to find Glenna. Later." Removing the charms, he opened the door, gave a brief wave, and headed off down the aisle glimpsing into each compartment as he went.

Unbeknownst to him, behind him Sirius and James looked fiercely at his retreating back. "Should I hex him?" asked Sirius, grinning malevolently.

"Sirius, look!" James pointed into the compartment Severus had left. Quite alone, Regulus was gazing out the window. "He was in there with your brother."

"That jackal! I told him to stay clear of him!" Sirius fumed.

Remus, trying to shove them along, interjected, "What harm could come of them talking? We're blocking the corridor."

They moved to a vacant compartment a few doors down and settled themselves in with Sirius still grumbling peevishly. James seemed preoccupied with gawking out the window for Lily.

Remus nudged Sirius in the side. "Are you and Regulus still fighting?"

"No. Fighting implies some sort of communication," said Sirius.

"Why don't you go talk to him, try to make up?"

The expression on Sirius' face plainly implied Lupin was delusional. "Why should I? He's the one who told me to beat it."

"Maybe he's sorry. Sirius, he's your only brother," Remus implored. He absolutely detested seeing a family torn apart, especially when no one made a move to prevent it.

"He's a Death Eater-loving prat, and I couldn't care less if I never see his ugly face again!"

James smirked without turning from the window. "He looks an awful lot like you, Sirius, but then you are a mangy critter." He and Remus laughed; Sirius scowled at them.

"Can we just stop talking about him? It's nauseating me." In a most uncharacteristic move, he yanked a book from his bag above the seat, threw himself back down, and stuck his nose in it.

Still smiling, James quipped, "He must really love Regulus if the subject drives him to _studying_."

"Not listening," Sirius chanted, then he began to hum loudly to block out any more of their inane prattling.

Further down, Severus found Glenna in a compartment with one of her friends who, upon urgent request, vacated the place for the couple to talk. His heart clenched at seeing her as the fear built inside him. Lily was lying… but what if she wasn't? He'd hardly slept at all the previous night, and hadn't eaten since Lily's accusation. The very thought of food turned his wildly flipping stomach, and caused his mother to worry that he was coming down sick. If Glenna was cheating on him, he had to know. And if she was, it would only figure—yet another disappointing heartache to add to his impressive collection.

He barely got inside before Glenna jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. When her lips met his, they met cold, unyielding flesh, and she pulled back in bewilderment.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

Never one for playing games, he blurted, "Did you kiss Mulciber?"

"No!" Glenna's eyes flashed first with shock, then with suppressed rage. That _bitch_! She knew it, she knew Evans would run to Severus! "Why are you asking me that?"

"Lily Evans said she saw you," he persisted. Without consciously willing it, he felt his eyes drawn to hers, felt the familiar pull of the Legilimens touch, and quickly averted his eyes. He wanted the truth, but he wanted it freely.

"Lily Evans is a manipulative, meddling shrew!" Glenna seethed. "What she saw was _Jack_ kissing _me_, and me pushing him away—or did she forget to mention that part?"

His silence indicated as much, though the knot in his gut loosened.

Not pausing in her rant, Glenna said, "If you believe her over me, then we have nothing left to say to each other. I won't—"

She stopped talking when he pressed his mouth to hers and clutched her hard to his chest. She was his. He'd deal with Jack Mulciber later.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius, I have a very important assignment for you." Voldemort motioned for him to get up from the spot where he'd been kneeling for fifteen minutes while the master addressed several other Death Eaters.

The blond man got to his feet and flexed his legs, sending loud popping sounds from his knees through the room. "Yes, my lord?"

"Augustus Rookwood tells me there is to be a visit from the Muggle Prime Minister at the Ministry of Magic." He took in the startled expression on Lucius' face. "Evidently it's not common knowledge, but Rookwood is quite adept at discovering covert information. My job for you is to infiltrate this meeting and find out what goes on, what they discuss."

Lucius' eyes lit up and he could barely suppress his gleeful smile. Finally an assignment worthy of him! And one that didn't involve torturing or any of that brutish business. "Thank you, my lord, I'm very honored. You've chosen the right man."

To cut Lucius down to size merely because he could and because it gave him secret thrills, Voldemort let out an irked breath. "I chose you because you already work at the Ministry and because you—for lack of a better term—have manners. You won't slip up and do something oafish that might tip off the others in the room."

"Oh, well…" Lucius murmured, much less enthusiastically. "I do have proper manners."

"From what Rookwood told me, the meeting is scheduled for eight o'clock, which is in about twelve minutes. This portkey brooch will carry you exactly to the spot, then back again afterward." Voldemort held out a palm-sized, faux-jewel encrusted brooch in the shape of a Siamese cat. "Unclasp the pin to activate it."

Lucius took the jewelry, looking confused. "Won't the others wonder why I've shown up to a meeting to which I wasn't invited, my lord?"

Here Voldemort paused to smile in his cruel upturning of the corners of this thin lips. "Oh, you were invited…just not in your present form."

At this, Bellatrix came sauntering over swinging her hips. Lucius wondered idly what would happen if she were to slip or stumble on those nasty spiky heels. Why, she'd probably break a leg or—

"Pay attention, blondie!" she barked at him. In one hand she held a cup of gloppy, vomit-resembling potion; in the other she held a strand of hair.

"Polyjuice potion," Lucius murmured. Clever idea, undoubtedly not _her_ idea! "Did Severus make it?"

"I did," Bella announced, looking very proud of herself.

"Master, are you sure it's safe?" Lucius hedged, afraid to so much as touch the stuff. Bella was insane, for one thing, and probably either incompetent or deliberately malicious for another, neither being in any wise good.

Bellatrix drew herself up straight to glower ferociously at him. "I happen to be a very skilled witch!"

"At dueling or torturing people, sure," he agreed readily.

Her glower darkened, if possible. "My potions grades never fell below—"

"Troll?" he interrupted, laughing.

Bella whipped out her wand, aiming at his face, the hair hanging precariously from the end of her finger. Honestly, the woman had no sense of humor.

"Enough," said Voldemort. While he enjoyed watching them bicker, there was work to be done, and it wouldn't be prudent to let Bellatrix hex him or kill him, because then he'd have to send her in place of Lucius, and what with her volcanic temper…. "Bellatrix, put in the hair Yaxley acquired at the Ministry."

"Yaxley?" echoed Lucius in consternation. "He detests me! It's probably a rodent hair!"

"If so, I'll give you the pleasure of teaching him a lesson," hissed the dark lord quietly.

Bella, who'd stowed her wand back in her blouse, dropped the hair into the grotesque mixture and handed it to Lucius with a smirk. "Bottoms up."

Steeling himself, Lucius took a sizeable swig of the awful concoction. He immediately set to gagging and retching, turning away from the master in the event he had an unfortunate hurling accident. He felt his body doing things it shouldn't: he was shrinking—a lot—and growing quite pudgy. He didn't dare feel to find out, but he thought his testicles had shrunk as well. His clothes, while now too large, were too snug at the same time. Reaching up, his arm brushed… his breasts? His hands groped his now chubby cheeks and beady, deepset eyes, and panic set in.

Smiling in a delightedly wicked way, Bella whipped out a mirror from behind her back and held it up for him. Lucius took one look at the countenance gazing back at him with a permanently patronizing smugness and he screamed like a schoolgirl. Staring back at him was the face of Dolores Umbridge.


	24. Chapter 24

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Four

The horror of discovering himself to be Dolores Umbridge—or her likeness, at any rate, was beginning to wear off, and none too soon. Lucius, dressed in a subtle pink skirt with a hot pink blouse, covered by yet another pink jacket remarked snidely, "Why do I have to wear _pink_?"

"Have you ever seen Ms. Umbridge wear another color?" Voldemort queried.

He had to admit he hadn't. A speedy check of the time assured him he wasn't due in the meeting with Prime Minister Mason and the Minister of Magic Plaidly for another three minutes. "I'll be back as soon as I can, master," he said, and unclasped the pin on the brooch portkey.

Instantly he was sucked away, to land with a gentle thud inside an office… an office that looked strangely familiar. Perhaps all the offices in the Ministry were similar, though none but this one had an unconscious, bound and silenced Umbridge stuffed under the desk, probably courtesy of Yaxley. He'd have to remember to use the Confundus on her so she'd actually believe she attended the meeting.

Lucius straightened his clothing, smoothed his hair with a frown, as it wasn't nearly as long or silky as his own, and departed the office; he stepped right across the way to Minister Plaidly's office, where wizards stood guard outside. "You may step aside now," he said in his best imitation of Umbridge's condescending tone. Thankfully his voice came out fairly high due to the change in body structure.

The guards, recognizing Umbridge and not wanting to get on her bad side, rapidly moved out of the way, and Lucius flounced past. He could get used to this subservience! "Thank you ever so much," he called back in a cheerily insincere voice.

In Plaidly's office, which was far larger than he'd anticipated and crushed his notion of all offices being the same, he met not only the Minister himself, but the Muggle Prime Minister and two of her aides, who had crowded off against a wall. The two dignitaries rose from their chairs to shake Lucius'/Umbridge's hand. Lucius made an awkward curtsy as he shook the Prime Minister's hand, barely keeping himself from rubbing his tainted palm on his skirt to remove the Muggle germs.

"How lovely to see you!" Lucius beamed, suddenly wondering if he was supposed to know her. What if Umbridge had met her before?

"And it's my pleasure to meet you, Dolores—may I call you Dolores?"

Lucius nodded. He couldn't care less what she called Umbridge, but at least he'd found out that Umbridge didn't know her.

"Please call me Janet. Prime Minister Mason sounds so stuffy," the woman went on. "Titus raves about your work."

"Of course, Janet," Lucius smiled. "Thank you for the compliments, Minister." He smiled primly over at the man and took his seat in one of the armchairs. Was anyone else coming? Probably not, there were only three chairs arranged in a kind of triangle with a coffee table wedged between them. And what on Earth did Umbridge call Plaidly? Damn it, why couldn't they have told him of this mission in a timely manner so he could have done some research! He yanked his skirt down over his knees when he noticed the man eyeing his legs.

Titus Plaidly, tall, thin, and nearly bald, began the conversation. "Now that we're all here, I believe Janet had some questions for you, Dolores."

"For me?" Lucius gasped, his toad face looking surprised and flattered at once. Inside he was quaking. He knew next to nothing of Umbridge's job, and if they began a cross-examination he'd be sunk!

"Yes, Dolores, you know I've heard a great deal about your prize pussy," said Prime Minister Mason. "It's rather famous."

Lucius stared blankly at her. _He_ didn't have a prize pussy, except for his exquisite wife's, and he had no intention of discussing that! As for Umbridge, he'd seen nothing lovely about her so far, and he highly doubted that part of her anatomy would qualify. "Excuse me?"

"Well, Titus tells me you're quite an expert on pussies."

"I—uh, I wouldn't say I'm an _expert_," Lucius replied, blushing furiously. How could Minister Plaidly, an uptight stiff if ever one existed, be so unmoved by this line of conversation? "A proper wiz—witch doesn't discuss such matters in mixed company." He glared pointedly at Plaidly, who grinned and lifted his cup to his lips.

"Go on, Dolores," he said. "Don't mind me just because I haven't got one of my own."

Janet waved a hand at Lucius as she sipped at a cup of tea. "Don't be so modest! Anyone who wins prize pussy four years running must be doing something right. Come now, share with me. I'd like to enter mine, too."

There were prizes for this? And she wanted to enter? Lucius thought he might be ill. "Just keep it clean and combed out," he squeaked, the heat in his face deepening him to the color of his blouse.

"What do you feed them?"

"Feed?" he repeated stupidly. In his mind he was creating a list of people he intended to kill when this farce of a meeting finally came to a blessed end. Rookwood would be first, and it would be painful!

"Is there a special diet you feed your cats? Titus says you have several divine breeds."

_Cats_! They were talking about _cats_! Lucius let out a huge relieved breath and smiled, cocking his head as he'd seen Umbridge do. "Oh, yes. Only the choisest morsels for my kitty-witties. Top of the line cat food from the veterinarian's office, you know. And vitamins for shiny coats." He'd heard that somewhere.

"I'm a relatively new pussy owner," the Prime Minister confessed. "What does it mean when the darlings butt their heads up against you?"

"They're asserting their dominance," Lucius answered authoritatively. After all, if moose and elk and the like butted heads for that purpose, it might follow that cats were the same, right? "They're like little people, really," he prattled on. In the back of his mind he remembered someone mentioning how Umbridge was obsessed with felines; he may as well play it up. "Did you know that cats are the smartest animals on Earth aside from apes and dolphins and such? Yes, quite intelligent, gifted creatures. Why, the world would be in grand order if only cats held office."

The odd looks emanating from Minister Plaidly told him he'd do well to shut up now. "Dolores, have some tea," he said, lifting a cup up to Lucius. Lucius took it, giving a tiny smirk between sips.

The topic took a turn into Muggle sailboating, another hobby of the Prime Minister, with an occasional query or statement directed to Umbridge. Nothing, absolutely nothing whatsoever was worth the time or trouble Lucius expended to be here, and were his hour of polyjuice not rapidly drawing to a close, he'd be tempted to stab himself in the eye with a fork in hopes of puncturing his brain. He stood up, smiling politely as he'd done innumerable times in his life when he had to dismiss someone or excuse himself.

"Please forgive me. I forgot to leave some water for my dears at home," he said, shrugging his pudgy shoulders. "It's been my honor—no, please, don't get up." At the last he practically ran for the exit, scooted across the hall, and slammed the door. Almost at once he felt himself growing taller and slimmer; his face, his hair were back! A swift grope down below reassured him he was an intact man once more, even if he _was_ wearing a short pink skirt and frilly blouse.

He went over to drag Umbridge out from under the desk where she was crammed, now fully alert and enraged, though still bound and silenced. He drew his wand and cast the Confundus spell on her. "You went to a meeting with Prime Minister Mason, who asked you to call her Janet. You talked about your prize cats and sailboating. You had a lovely time."

Hastily he removed the charms binding her, lifted her into her chair, and whispered the reverse spell to allow her speech. "You're tired, you need to go home and feed and water your animals." With that he unclasped the pin on the portkey and was gone.

Voldemort and Bellatrix were waiting for him when he arrived, both staring expectantly, though Bella did manage to ridicule the image he presented of a tall blond man in a frilly pink outfit. Lucius barely stopped himself from choking her.

"My lord, I'm afraid you were misled. Dolores Umbridge was invited to meet the Muggle Prime Minister to talk about _cats_," Lucius seethed.

"Cats?" echoed Voldemort, his thin lips pinching into nonexistence.

"Yes, master, cats! Apparently Umbridge is some kind of expert, which might have been helpful to know." He was busy stripping down and putting on his own robes, which had never felt so wonderful to him; even knowing Bella was watching didn't faze him.

"There was no discussion of politics or—anything?" demanded the dark lord.

"No, master, not unless sailboating now qualifies as politics," drawled Lucius sarcastically. At this point he didn't much care if he were _crucio_'d.

"Leave." Voldemort turned his back and stalked off.

Bellatrix whirled to follow, pausing long enough to smirk and hiss over her shoulder, "Meow!"

Lucius did his best to ignore her. He got the idea Rookwood would soon be summoned for disciplinary action, and as much as he'd like to be here to watch the fireworks, he needed to get home to Narcissa. Something about having been a heinously unattractive woman gave him the need to prove himself a man.

When he got home, he found Narcissa and Abraxas sitting by one of the parlor fireplaces chatting. "Excuse me, Father, I require my wife. I'll explain later." So saying, he lifted Narcissa into his arms and Apparated to their bedroom.

"Lucius, what's gotten into you?" she squeaked as he dumped her onto the bed.

"I love my wife, what's wrong with that?" he said, hopping onto the bed beside her and crushing her in his arms. He began kissing her in an almost frantic desire to impart his need without speaking it.

Narcissa, fired up by his animalism, pounced on him, kissing his face and neck, drawing her tongue up to his chin as he groaned his pleasure. "And I love my husband," she whispered as she tore open his shirt and bit lightly into his chest.

He arched his back toward her. "Oh, Narcissa," he moaned. No doubt about it, his parts worked just fine. He wiggled out of his pants while Narcissa drove him wild with her wondrous touch.

After they'd accomplished the fiery deed, exhausted and spent, they lay in each other's arms cuddling contentedly. Narcissa drew a heart with her finger across Lucius' chest, tracing their initials inside it.

"What are you doing, love?" he asked, then kissed the tip of her nose.

"Playing," she answered. "Tracing our love into your skin."

"It's already there, Narcissa. In my skin, my bones, every fiber of my being lives for you." His embrace tightened around her. "Sometimes I wish I could carry you around in my breast pocket so you'd always be close to my heart."

"I already am," she smiled back. "Didn't you just say so?"

Lucius nodded gently. "I guess I did. But I still wish I could carry you with me."

"Lucius, where did you go tonight? To see the dark lord?"

"Yes." He wished she wouldn't bring things like that up, especially at times like this when everything was so perfect. "And so you know, I didn't do anything bad. I talked about pussies."

"What?" she exclaimed, raising up to gape at him. "That's the kind of smut you discuss when you're away?"

"I didn't mention yours," Lucius grinned mischievously. "Although it's the best by far."

"Ah!" she gasped, unbelievably perturbed. "How could you? That's practically cheating—"

"Narcissa," he murmured in her ear as he pulled her back to him. "We talked about cats. I swear."

"Cats? The dark lord summoned you for _that_?" she said in astonishment. The man must be battier than she thought!

"No… I can't tell you the why of it, sweetheart, just know I thought of you all night." _My prize pussy,_ he chuckled to himself. Now Father, he'd get a laugh out of it—either that or smack him for talking dirty. Tough call.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

February had come and still Severus hadn't confronted Mulciber about kissing Glenna. She expected him to, he saw it in her eyes whenever the other boy was around, which was one reason he _hadn't_ done so. It worried her, she feared for… who? The signs of worry were evident, though Severus felt relatively confident that she was telling the truth about being afraid he'd hurt Mulciber and get himself expelled. She gave no indication of caring what happened to him other than possible mutilation at Severus' hands.

Although Severus couldn't admit it, he'd been observing the two at every opportunity; not once had he seen any contact, or even real conversation between them. It angered him to feel this way—jealous, out of control, helpless. What was wrong with him? Glenna said there was nothing between them and he believed her—rather, he wanted to believe her. Lily's accusation pounded in his brain, and seeing Mulciber's smug glances in her direction when she wasn't looking only added fuel to the passionate fire burning in him.

So now, finally, he could stall no longer. He sat waiting in the common room for the youth to come in, and waylaid him with a wand to the throat. "We're going out, Jack. Move."

Terror-stricken, Mulciber began to babble incoherently until Severus slapped a silencing spell on him. They exited the dungeons, went up a hallway, and stopped at a certain point along the wall. Severus shoved him hard against the stone and released him from the silence charm.

"Is this place familiar, Mulciber? Remember when you assaulted my girlfriend here?" Severus hissed, his wand still aimed at the boy.

"No, I didn't! You got it wrong!" Jack protested, his hands rising to his chest, palms out as if in surrender.

"So what you're saying is I'm either too dense to understand plain English, or Glenna is a liar," Severus crooned menacingly. "Are you sure you want to say that?"

"No! I mean, okay, yeah, I kissed her. But that's all, I didn't _assault_ her, I'd never do that!"

"Did she agree to be kissed? I think not."

Mulciber swallowed hard. Severus was a Death Eater; his father—who'd been one himself for over twenty years—had told him so. He'd regaled his son with plenty of appalling exploits the group were responsible for, including taking part in brutalizing Severus for not being callous enough. Jack wasn't anxious to have any of those same things done to him, though if Severus deemed it revenge for what his father had done, he couldn't blame him.

"I'm sorry, Snape. It wasn't against you! It's just…I love Glenna, I can't help it, but she told me where to get off, so it's not like you have anything to worry about."

Severus' upper lip curled in contempt. "Do I look worried to you?"

The blank, black eyes boring into Mulciber most certainly did not look worried. Deadly, maybe. Furious, probably, he really couldn't tell from the stony expression. The wand in his face—yeah, that looked dangerous. "Snape, come on, you can't kill me over something like that. It won't happen again, I guarantee it."

"I didn't threaten to kill you, did I? And no, Jack, it won't happen again. _I_ guarantee it." Severus jerked the wand sideways and Mulciber flew across the hallway to slam against the opposite wall, ramming his shoulder hard. "Have you ever felt the Cruciatus, Jack? I'll bet you have. I've felt it at your father's hands, and he doesn't believe in fooling around."

"Severus, please!" Mulciber gasped. "Don't!"

Another flick of the wand sent him colliding with the other wall again, cracking his head loudly and knocking him to the floor, where he lay moaning as blood seeped from a gash to his temple. Severus came up to stand over him.

"I'm not going to hurt you this time, Mulciber. If it happens again, you'll discover how very unpleasant it can be to cross me. Stay away from me, and more importantly, stay away from Glenna. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Jack said in a pained voice.

Severus spun around, his robes swirling behind him, and walked a few paces, then on a hunch whirled back and shot an _expelliarmus_ at the boy, who'd sat up and removed his wand from his robe. It flew over to be caught by Snape, who clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Part of staying away from me necessarily implies not attacking me, Jack," said Severus coldly, chiding. "What should I do with you?"

"I had to try," muttered the boy. "It'd be worse if he—if I didn't fight."

_Worse if he_…who? Pretending to grasp what he'd said, Severus retraced his steps. "What would he do? How would he even know?"

"Nothing, forget it," Mulciber said, studying the floor.

"I can make you tell me." Severus casually pointed his wand. "Cru—"

"No! God, no!" Mulciber shrieked, throwing himself to the side and starting to shake violently.

It was as Severus suspected, then: _he_—Mulciber, Sr.—must indeed use the Cruciatus on his son, which would explain the man's lack of compunction in using it on another boy. If this was the type of cruelty Jack had been subjected to for who knew how many years, was it any wonder he'd grown up to treat others maliciously? Even though Severus had not intended to actually perform the curse, he felt guilty at the reaction he'd elicited. For a long moment he stood there, then he tossed the boy's wand to him.

"Leave Glenna alone," he said quietly, then walked off without looking back.

Mulciber got to his feet, staring after him in bewilderment; Snape had him at his mercy, yet he hadn't done anything. Why? He tucked his wand away and headed back to the common room. The injuries to his head and shoulder weren't serious enough to require the infirmary, whose personnel might take it upon themselves to send an owl home detailing his 'accident'. It was much safer to let it heal on its own.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Professor Slughorn's seventh year Advanced Potions class filed out of the room, leaving their vials on his desk. A perfunctory glance told him three of them were inadequate, a smell test would no doubt eliminate a few more. The last one to hand in a potion was Severus, which he found surprising; he usually was the first finished and the first turned in. Slughorn grinned to himself. That was before the boy had started dating Glenna. Now he seemed less focused on school and more on life, as it should be, and Glenna's marks had improved as well, whether as a result of harder work on her part or Severus' help, Slughorn couldn't tell.

"Severus, wait a minute."

Snape paused, waved for Glenna to go outside the classroom, and turned back to the man. "Yes, professor?"

"Do you have time to help me prepare some potions this weekend?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

Slughorn dropped his voice. "Veritaserum—a large quantity."

The youth stood staring wide-eyed at the man. Veritaserum was forbidden for all except official use, and unless Dumbledore planned a large-scale interrogation of the students, it seemed a patently ridiculous waste of time and effort. And if he did plan to use it, he'd find out about the Death Eaters in their midst… "Sir, may I ask what for?"

"The Ministry has asked a few potions masters to make as much as they can," whispered Slughorn. "They need it for questioning suspected Death Eaters they capture."

Severus' stomach flipped and he had to force down the sudden desire to vomit. "Death Eaters?" His voice took on an uncharacteristically high squeak.

"Yes. With all the Muggle and Muggle-born abuses and murders these last years, now even aurors and such being targeted, the Minister of Magic thinks we need to find out what we can from the people they arrest."

"But Veritaserum isn't foolproof," Severus argued, unconsciously rubbing his forearm. "Some people are able to nullify its influence."

"True, but for most it's pretty effective." He motioned toward a stack of items on a nearby table. "I only need you to help me prepare the ingredients and get it brewing, then I can manage watching it until it's ready. Can you come by tonight about seven?"

"Yes, sir," Severus agreed, backing up to the door. "I'll be here."

He walked out trying to brush the stricken look from his face. If a Death Eater who knew him—or knew _of_ him—was captured and drugged, his name might well be pried from the prisoner's lips, leading to his own arrest. He'd be sent to Azkaban because of a drug he'd helped create! He could sabotage the potion, he supposed, although it was one that took weeks to complete. Somewhere along the line Slughorn was bound to notice if it wasn't right, he was quite competent where potions were concerned. Then again, other potions masters were making the same thing; what was to stop _their_ brew from being the one to finger him?

_Don't be absurd_! he scolded himself. Even if his name came up, what could he be charged with? Being forced to watch people being tortured and murdered, then being tortured himself? He didn't have a choice, they would've killed him, which wouldn't have saved the McKinnons.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

The voice broke through his thoughts, startling him. He'd forgotten Glenna was waiting for him. "Nothing. He wants me to come back tonight to help with a potion."

"Why do you look worried?" she pressed.

"Do I? I'm just thinking." He made a mental note to practice more facial control in the future. Evidently he'd let it slide quite a bit. He took her hand and squeezed it. "Let's go to supper."

Glenna glanced coyly up at him. "Maybe we'll have time for dessert before you have to come back here."

"We can hope," he murmured in her ear. They took off at a run for the Great Hall.


	25. Chapter 25

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Five

(Author's note to Anonymous: Concerning your review—Amen! There are a lot of us who feel exactly the same way.)

It was mid-afternoon, not the most inconspicuous time to be breaking into the gated Restricted section of the Hogwarts library, especially since a multitude of students milled about and hunched over study materials at their tables. Glenna tried to convince her boyfriend of this glaring fact, without success. According to Severus' logic, if he purposefully approached the area, unlocked the gate and went in, the students would assume he had permission to be doing so. And, as he was a seventh year and most of them were fifth years studying for their O.W.L.s, it was unlikely they'd gather the gumption to question him.

And so, because she couldn't talk him out of it, Glenna stationed herself strategically to watch both the entrance to the library, lest a professor happen by, and the door Severus had gone through only moments ago. Aside from starting the Gryffindork Sirius Black on fire, she wasn't used to taking part in covert deeds—the Slytherin boys typically cornered the market there—but she had to admit it was exciting. Until _she_ showed up.

Glenna rolled her eyes. Was that Evans bitch following her around, or what? It seemed every time she turned around she was bumping into the meddlesome witch. Of course, as Head Girl, Evans might take it upon herself to find out why a lowly Slytherin was here, so she opened a book and pretended to read. When she looked up, Lily had moved on out of her range of vision. She glanced over to where Severus had disappeared, silently urging him to hurry.

_Desires of the Dark._ Sounded like a cheesy romance novel. _Unknown Calamities._ If they were unknown, how did they write a book about them? Severus moved slowly along between the shelves, studying book titles up and down as he went. _Grotesque Oddities of the Wizarding World._ Tempted as he was, Severus moved on. _Light, Dark, and In-Between._ He grinned and shook his head. At last he found a small section dedicated to potions. He yanked four books off the shelf, laid them on the floor, and sat cross-legged to study them. Why hadn't he broken in here ages ago? This place was a gold mine of Dark Arts!

Severus scanned the first book's table of contents. The potion wasn't listed there, so he picked up the next and leafed through rapidly. Nope. _The third time's the charm_…he'd heard that somewhere, and book three confirmed it. On page seventy-two he found what he'd been searching for: _Brinnan Durstig_—Burning Thirst.

_Brinnan durstig is known to produce not only a terrible burning sensation when drunk, but also an unquenchable thirst. Those exposed will literally drink themselves to death in order to quell the unbearable pain._

He stopped reading. He'd known, or suspected at any rate, that Lord Voldemort wouldn't request an everyday, run-of-the-mill potion. He intended it for evil purposes, big surprise there! Besides that, when Severus hadn't been able to find it in any of the potions tomes in the ordinary library or even at Malfoy Manor, it should've sent up a red flag.

Nonetheless, he'd found it and he had to make it. He pulled out a length of parchment and quill, uncapped the ink and set it on the floor, then began to painstakingly copy the ingredients and directions, while clumsily balancing a book across his knees to provide backing for the parchment. It was a long formula spanning four pages, and his quill scratched along as quickly as he could write.

"Hmmm," came an obnoxious voice behind Glenna. "Where's Snivellus?" Two boys laughed.

Glenna turned slowly, fixing a haughty stare on Sirius, who stood next to Potter. She'd recognized that ear-grating voice. "And that would concern you how, you _flaming_ arse?"

The fire reference wasn't lost on the boys; James grinned over at a scowling Sirius. "Aren't you joined at the hip?" Sirius sneered.

"Or some other way?" James guffawed.

"How clever," Glenna responded in a bored tone, then yawned dramatically. "Go away now, you're bothering me."

"Yeah, well—" Sirius began, then stopped short at the wand poking him in the back of the neck.

Mulciber leaned in nearer to hiss in his ear, "She said you're bothering her. Move along."

Without a word the Gryffindors slid away; Mulciber's wand pointed at them until they'd covered sufficient distance. He tucked it back into his robes and bent in close to Glenna. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Jack. They're all talk with girls, and I can handle myself."

"It's a man's responsibility to protect a woman," he said matter-of-factly. While he wanted to say 'to protect _his_ woman', he thought it slightly inappropriate and doubted she'd appreciate it.

Glenna graced him with a tiny smile. "That's very chivalrous, Jack. What are you doing here anyway? You're not exactly a library rat."

"Neither are you—or those creeps. They were watching you and Snape. I saw them follow you in, so I came in to keep an eye on them," he explained with a shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to play the spy. "I'm certain they noticed Snape go into the Restricted area, and I wouldn't put it past them to squeal on him to get him in trouble. I thought I'd warn you."

_It would be like those jerks!_ Glenna seethed. "Thanks for telling me."

Mulciber looked as if he planned to say something else, only his mouth seemed to have got stuck in the open position as he peered over her head in the direction that Snape had gone. He gave a weak squeak, backed up, and rushed away. Glenna twisted around to see Severus striding toward her, looking none too pleased.

"Didn't you find it?" she asked, rising.

Severus didn't seem to hear her. "What was he doing talking to you? I cautioned him to stay away!"

Glenna noticed the wand clutched in his fist. More than that, the very notion that he had the idea he could control her activity peeved her immensely. "I can talk to whoever I want, Severus, and you can't stop me! And if you plan to hex every boy who speaks to me, you'll be quite busy."

"What did he want?" persisted the young man. His hawk eyes scanned around to see where Mulciber had escaped to in order to facilitate pursuit.

"Stop it!" barked Glenna. All bustling, whispering, and movement in half of the library came to an abrupt halt. Heads turned, students peeked over their books for a look at the source of the commotion. She lowered her voice to speak through clenched teeth. "We need to leave."

With that she dropped the book she'd been pretending to study and flounced out. Severus stowed his wand, glanced around at the gaping onlookers with a condescending sneer, and said, "Don't you dunderheads have work to attend to?" Then he strolled after his girlfriend, shaking his hair back from his face.

Outside, Glenna lit into him while at the same time dragging him in the direction of the dungeons. "What is your problem? Jack came over to help us, and you act like a barbarian! He said Black and Potter were watching you go into the Restricted area, which means they'll probably run to Dumbledore, but you couldn't be bothered to wait five seconds, could you? _And_ he chased the two little cretins away when they were harassing me! I—"

"They were harassing you?" Severus interrupted. During her spiel he'd gone rapidly from angry and jealous to mildly nervous to livid. His wand had somehow found its way back into his grasp.

"It's no big deal," she answered, secretly pleased at his response. "We need to get away from the library and hide the formula—or didn't you get it?"

"I got it." He patted a front pocket of his robes. "And it is a big deal. If they pick on me, that's one thing. When they start in on you, it's war."

"Severus, you're such a gentleman warrior!" Glenna exclaimed delightedly. She rounded on him, took his cheeks between her palms, and kissed him full on the lips. He responded by wrapping his arms around her and jerking her closer until their chests melded, his eyes closing, his mouth playing along with hers.

"Not in the hallway!" Professor Slughorn ordered from out of nowhere. He came waddling up behind them. "Severus, the librarian tells me there was a report of you in the Restricted section of the library. Is this true?"

Tempted to lie but unable to refute all the witnesses, he said, "Yes, sir."

Slughorn finally caught up to them, panting from his exertion. "You know that breaks several rules: unauthorized entry, charming the lock, looking at forbidden materials—"

"Excuse me, sir, but if they're forbidden, why are they even at Hogwarts?"

"That's not my concern, Snape. I'll have to take ten points from Slytherin, and give you detention tonight."

"Yes, sir," Severus acquiesced. A few points wouldn't be noticed, and one night of detention was well worth getting the dark lord off his ass. With any luck, Slughorn would leave him to his own devices to gather ingredients he'd need to haul to his room, no doubt to the squalling protests of his roommates. "Seven o'clock?"

"Seven o'clock."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Happy birthday, Lucius!" Narcissa beamed as she met her husband at the front door, flung her arms around him, and kissed him deeply.

Lucius allowed himself to indulge in her sweet attentions before pulling back, cocking his head to regard her. Narcissa Black Malfoy was no airhead, she knew very well his birthday wasn't for more than a month. "What's this about, my love?" He pulled off his outer cloak and hung it on a hook near the door.

Narcissa, almost dancing with glee, took him by the hand and started to lead him away from the foyer. With a smirk he followed obediently. If she wanted some fun before supper, _he_ wasn't going to object, although the whole birthday thing threw him. His bemusement grew when they passed right by the staircase and continued down a hallway. His feeble attempts to steer her up the stairs went unnoticed.

"Honey, where are we going?" he asked at last.

"In here."

Narcissa pulled him into…was it a closet of some sort? He vaguely recalled playing in areas like this around the mansion as a child. It was dark, cramped…oh, now he understood! She wanted to recreate the atmosphere of the Hogwarts broom closets they used to snog in, only this time she'd let him go all the way! Hopefully she'd charm her clothes into a uniform, too, for effect. Leering broadly, he threw his arms about her waist from behind and reached around to kiss her neck. She giggled and brushed him away, then closed the door.

"Begin," she commanded.

Before Lucius had time to obey, a tiny spotlight shown down on an equally tiny table situated in front of them; on the table, a diminutive figure about the height of a man's middle finger stood up and curtsied. She had long, rich blond hair and wore a full length, pale blue ruffled dress amazingly reminiscent of the one Narcissa was wearing.

"I love you, Lucius," the doll piped up.

Lucius' jaw dropped. It was speaking in Narcissa's voice! He bent down for closer inspection. The petite toy had bright blue eyes, and a lovely face, and…looked exactly like his wife.

"You're my fierce dragon," said the doll, staring into his face. "Want to play?" She winked a wee little eye at him.

Still gaping, Lucius turned to Narcissa, struggling to overcome his speechlessness. "What?" was all he got out.

"You've seen animated dolls before," Narcissa explained, a bit taken aback by his reaction. "I had this one made special, as you can probably tell. It was for your birthday, but they owled me to say it was ready today…" Her enthusiasm dimmed at the expression he projected.

"Sweetheart, it's a _doll_. Most men don't play with dolls," he said.

"But you said you wanted to carry me around in your pocket!" she wailed, and burst into tears. "I only—wanted—you to be—happy."

"Oh, honey." Lucius folded her in his arms, letting her weep on his shoulder. "I do want that, I'm wonderfully happy with you. And now that I understand, I love it. Honestly, I do."

He stroked her silky hair over and over. As he glanced past her at the doll under the spotlight, he actually _did_ rather like it. It was a minute version of his perfect wife, what couldn't he love? His lips parted in a handsome smile. Yes, now he really could carry Narcissa—her image anyway—with him, could hear her speak and watch her move. Even now the toy was dancing what he thought might be a kind of ballet step.

"Don't cry, Narcissa. I was surprised, that's all, but I love the gift. Why, I can set her on my desk and listen to her and watch her whenever I want. It's the most thoughtful present I've ever received."

Narcissa raised her tear streaked face. Even with swollen red eyes and blotchy skin she was beautiful to him. "Do you mean it?"

"Absolutely." To prove his point, he scooped the squirming figure off the table. "Halt," he said, and it became motionless. He then tucked it into the front pocket of his shirt robe. Eyes twinkling, he leaned in to kiss her. "Thank you for the best birthday gift ever."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

After a long day at work, Abraxas walked into the dining room to find his son sitting alone at the table playing with a doll. He did a doubletake. Yes, it was definitely a _doll_. To say he was disconcerted would be an understatement. When Lucius picked up the miniature and kissed it gently on its tiny lips, he nearly choked.

"What are you doing?" he exploded, storming up to face the young man, who looked more than a little embarrassed to be caught.

"Nothing," Lucius mumbled, trying to furtively slide the figure out of sight.

His father grasped his wrist, yanked his hand up, and pointed at the doll clenched in his fist. "What is this and what in heaven's name are you doing with it?"

Because he feared struggling might damage his precious gift, Lucius made no effort to escape. He raised his eyebrows haughtily and said, "Father, the fact that you're bruising my wrist aside, you're close to harming my possession. Do you mind?"

"_Lucius_," the older man seethed in his I'd-better-not-have-to-ask-you-again voice.

"Narcissa gave it to me as an early birthday present, if you must know, and I like it." _So there_, he almost added. With a swift move of his other hand he snatched the doll safely away, set it on the table, and ordered it to perform. It walked in a circle, curtsied, and said, "I love you, Lucius."

Abraxas let go of his son's wrist as he bent down curiously in exactly the same way Lucius had to get a look at this creature speaking like Narcissa. "It's her," he said softly in an awed tone. He'd never seen an animated doll quite so perfect before.

"Yes," Lucius agreed. "Fascinating, isn't it? I'll bet it cost a small fortune."

"Ah," Abraxas murmured. So tiny, yet so realistic. That's why Lucius was kissing it! In a strange way, he understood. In fact, it made him wish he had a doll of his own wife so he could hear her voice and watch her laugh and move. He had her portraits, of course, but he couldn't hug those or kiss them. A mist clouded his eyes and he turned away. "Where is Narcissa?"

"She wanted to change before dinner." She'd also wanted to wash the tears from her face, something he didn't think his father needed to know.

"Son, I guess I can't object to this toy of yours, but I hope you don't intend to let everyone know that Lucius Malfoy plays with dolls," Abraxas stated in a tone devoid of hostility, though he truly meant it as a warning. There were always those who'd use any means to bring down a foe or a rival.

"Don't worry, Father, I won't embarrass you," the younger man grinned. Catching sight of Narcissa approaching, he stood to greet her. "You're ravishing, as always, my love."

Narcissa stretched out her hand to him and he brought it to his lips. "Abraxas, I see Lucius has been showing you the figure I had made for him. It's one of a kind."

"Like you," Lucius crooned.

"It's striking," Abraxas responded. "And Lucius is like a little boy at Christmas."

Her eyes lit up. So he really _did_ like it! "I'm very happy to hear it."

Lucius pulled out her chair and she sat down, at precisely the same moment the doll pursed its lips and cooed, "Lucius, I'm horny."

As one, all three of them froze, faces going red as beets. Lucius grabbed the toy, silenced it, and thrust it into his pocket, staring down at his plate in mortification. Needless to say, the meal was unusually silent and uncomfortable until Lucius decided to try to lighten the mood. From there it got worse.

"Well, it's not as if Mother never said the same thing, right?" He directed a glimpse at Abraxas, who glared murderously back at him.

"Lucius, shut up!" Narcissa snapped.

"But I'm just trying to—"

His father slammed a palm on the tabletop, rattling the dishes. "Lucius, listen to your wife! For once in your life, learn when to quit."

Maybe silence was golden after all.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Kneeling at the feet of Lord Voldemort, Severus backed up and rose, drawing a large vial from his robes. "My lord, I've brought the _brinnan durstig_ potion."

He held it out to Voldemort's outstretched fingers. The man examined the potion from every angle, holding it up to the light and nodding to himself. He'd never actually seen it before, yet he studied it as though he were an expert. It wouldn't do to show himself less knowledgeable than a mere servant, especially when his magical abilities far exceeded Snape's.

"Master, may I ask you something?"

Voldemort inclined his head.

"May I ask what you plan to use this potion for?" said Snape.

Red eyes pierced through Severus. Immediately every memory he wished to keep secret locked itself away at the Legilimens touch, which lasted but a moment. Voldemort responded curtly, "No."

Still Severus persisted, mentally kicking himself for his damned obstinate tenacity. "Will it be used to kill people, my lord?"

"What if it is, Snape?" hissed Voldemort. "Would it please you?" Hadn't he made it clear that questions were not welcome? He raised his wand as the boy hung his head. Lessons in obedience must be taught.

"Forgive me, master. I had no right to ask."

Voldemort vacillated for another few seconds, then lowered the wand at Snape's deferential attitude. "This potion is hardly practical for murder or war, is it? How often do we offer the enemy a drink?" He laughed uproariously at his own joke, not noticing that the boy remained motionless and unmoved by his hilarity. "Considering the use for which I've reserved it, it will only exterminate those foolish enough to think they can outsmart me."

Severus permitted a small grin as he said, "Then it should kill no one, for who could presume to believe they might surpass your genius, my lord?" His black eyes looked up at the dark lord with glowing admiration.

"Just so," agreed Voldemort with his own thin, cruel-lipped smile. "I'm pleased at how quickly you fulfilled your command to brew this potion."

"Thank you, master," Severus murmured, bowing. "I also have news for you."

"Good news or bad news?"

"Perhaps both," Snape admitted evenly. He hoped he wouldn't be tortured for being the bearer of bad news, but found it highly probable. For the hundredth time he wondered if he should have dared bring it up, yet he was sure he'd made the right decision. If Voldemort ever found out he'd known and _hadn't_ told him… "Professor Slughorn confided to me that he and a few other potions masters have been directed by the Minister of Magic to make large quantities of Veritaserum for use on suspected Death Eaters."

The way the dark lord seemed to grow physically in his sudden fury made Severus rapidly reconsider whether he'd made the prudent choice, as if he had a choice. He'd seriously hoped to make it back unscathed and un_crucio_'d to Hogsmeade with the rest of the weekend excursioners.

"You're certain of this?"

"I helped brew it myself, master. It will be ready in a week."

The anticipated round of pain didn't come. Voldemort made a series of hissing sounds Snape didn't understand, evidently in parseltongue. He thought, rather subversively, that it sounded like a snake swearing.

"Master, is it possible to train us to resist the effects in the event any of us are captured?" Severus ventured.

As if remembering Snape was there, Voldemort fixed him with another cold stare with those unnerving red eyes. Gradually the coldness thawed a bit. "Bring me some of this serum, as much as you can sneak away."

"Yes, my lord." Another bow.

"You're proving yourself quite useful, Severus. You may go."

Severus bowed once more and exited. The fact it gratified him to hear that the master was pleased with his work shocked him more than a little. He didn't want to be here, he only wanted to bring a quick end to this war, and if that meant protecting Death Eaters so the purebloods won, so be it, but why take pleasure in praise from a man he feared and despised? Because it was praise, he figured at last. Like anyone else, he wanted to feel that he mattered.

Voldemort threw himself into his chair to brood. So, the Ministry was after Death Eaters, hoping to force them to deliver up secrets, and what better way than to drug them into giving each other up! It infuriated him.

Severus Snape. Only a boy, yet already showing more promise than many of the others. His intelligence and skill with potions would continue to come in handy, and the fierce anger and hatred he'd sensed whirling in the boy's head at their first meeting could so easily be manipulated toward higher goals. _Spy_. The word popped into his brain unbidden. Of course, Voldemort expected Lucius to rise to Governor in order to keep an eye on that pompous git Dumbledore, a plan that hadn't changed. But Snape… he was already at Hogwarts, he'd already presented things of value. When he brought the Veritaserum, Voldemort would charge him with a new task: espionage.


	26. Chapter 26

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Six

Seventeen vials of Veritaserum sat in rows on the table. Severus glanced around cautiously in the empty lab, picked up one vial, and slipped it into his robes. Slughorn had been pleased when he volunteered to bottle the stuff, saying he'd be along presently to collect it and deliver it to the Ministry. While the man might have a good idea, there was no way he could be absolutely certain how many bottles it would fill. Severus snatched up one more and stuffed it into another pocket only seconds before the door banged open. He jumped guiltily.

"It's finished, sir," he said, waving his hand over the fifteen small bottles. The weight of his pockets seemed to grow exponentially with the tick of the clock and the plodding feet approaching him. Surely he'd be discovered, then all hell would break loose! He wiped a film of sweat from his forehead.

"Good job, Severus. Thank you for your help." Slughorn toddled up to the table to inspect the goods. "Beautiful. Perfect. You go on, I'll clean up the cauldrons."

"Let me know if you need assistance again," said Snape, backing toward the door.

"I'll do that. See you in the dungeons."

Severus nodded, turned, and scurried out. That was close! _It's for the war effort_, he reminded himself. He'd need to sneak away again tomorrow from Hogsmeade; frankly he was surprised the supervising teachers didn't notice his long absences, but then again no one seemed to notice Snape very much, which was turning out to be a positive thing.

He exited the lab and hurried on his way to the Great Hall for supper, then came to a screeching stop; ahead of him in the corridor strutted those despicable Marauders. He clung to the shadows lest they spot him. He couldn't afford to duel now—as if he wanted to—when he had two vials of Veritaserum that might be broken and lost. The gang headed for the changing stairways and an idea struck him. As soon as all four boys' feet were on the staircase, he cast a spell to flatten the stairs into a slide and rapidly cast another at the bottom of the stairs—an invisible wall.

The Marauders, their feet suddenly jerked out from under them, slammed to the floor with indignant and shocked cries. They hurtled down the slippery slide, rolling over and banging one another, only to come to an abrupt halt as they slapped the invisible wall. Pettigrew and Black hit first, to be crunched from behind by Potter and Lupin. James' foot lodged against Peter's ankle, ramming it into the wall with a sickening crunch and the rat-like boy let out a scream. Lupin's whole body tumbled against Sirius, crushing his face against the barrier and causing another angry yelp. Black pulled his face away to display a bloody, crooked nose.

"Sorry, Sirius," Remus pleaded. "Let me fix it."

"Doh! I'll go to the idfirbary," Sirius growled, trying to stand up on the incline.

Remus waved his wand with an unspoken spell and the wall disappeared. "I guess somebody thought it would be funny," he grumbled.

James flicked his wand at the staircase and it returned to normal. His eyes began searching the area and he started up the first stair, but Peter's cries brought him back down. "If I find out who did that, they'll be sorry."

"Like we do'd doh," said Sirius, pressing his robes to his nose to staunch the flow of blood. "It's Stivellus."

Even his friends couldn't hold back their laughter at how ridiculous he sounded, except for Peter, who was still on the floor moaning and holding his ankle. With Remus and James on either side, they helped him up and supported him as they made off for the infirmary. Sirius lagged behind, his eyes already developing black circles beneath them.

From above, standing back out of view, Severus' body shook with silent laughter. Served them right for all the things they'd done to him, and for bothering Glenna. He'd been tempted to run the moment he performed the prank, but when he saw there'd been injury he couldn't tear himself away. He'd counted on the fact that they were Gryffindorks; they wouldn't leave an injured companion to search out a perpetrator who was probably long gone.

Sighing with the contentment only revenge and subterfuge can bring, Severus headed off to supper. This had been a wonderful, productive day.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The sign on the door said 'Misuse of Muggle Artifacts'. Lucius wasn't aware it was even possible to misuse an object, Muggle or otherwise, unless one was a complete moron. Or unless one had deliberately cursed an item, but since Muggles weren't capable of that... He knocked once and pushed open the door.

Arthur Weasley, in his late twenties with messy reddish hair, looked up. "Yes, may I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"

_Mr. Malfoy is my father_, thought Lucius, though perhaps it was fitting for the lower class to address him as such. "Arthur, how are you today?"

"Fine. I doubt you've come here to ask after my health."

"True. I'd prefer not to step foot in the Muggle Department, yet exceptions must be made," responded Lucius, sauntering up toward the desk. He couldn't help noticing the walls lined with shelves, each shelf covered with all manner of odd artifacts that both fascinated and repulsed him. On one shelf hung a makeshift sign warning that some of these objects might carry charms.

He quite forgot about Arthur as he strolled slowly up along one wall studying various articles made of materials foreign to him. One seemed a caricature of what he thought might be a sports figure, for his Muggle clothing resembled Quidditch robes. The head of said figure was unnaturally large and attached to the torso by unseen means. Lucius tapped the overgrown, grinning face with one finger and the enormous head began to bob and weave most grotesquely. His brow dipped and his eyes widened.

"Bobble head," said Weasley.

"What?" asked Lucius, remembering the man was here and turning to him.

"It's called a bobble head. I'm not really sure what it symbolizes."

"Certainly not large Muggle brains," drawled Lucius, smirking at his own cleverness. "Heavens, Arthur, how do you tolerate such close proximity to these," he wrinkled his nose, "vile contraptions?"

"Just because they're Muggle doesn't make them vile," answered Arthur in a clipped tone.

Lucius offered a sympathetic, patently fake smile. "Of course you'd have to say so. Perhaps I could put in a word for you to get removed from this hellish pit into something more fitting for a pureblood. I dare say I'd have nightmares if I had to look at this all day."

Arthur got up from his chair looking somewhat vexed. "I'm fine here, Lucius. How can I help you?"

"I've been asked to speak to certain Ministry employees regarding another of those proposed Muggle defense laws or some such nonsense. They come up with alarming regularity, don't they?" He flicked a bit of lint off the sleeve of his robe. "There's to be a formal signing, as I'm sure you know, but if we purebloods band together and refuse to sign, it will die a swift and painful death."

"Who asked you to speak to me?"

"That's irrelevant. The point is that if we allow this bill to pass, it will weaken our status while elevating mudbloods to equal footing. It's appalling." Gauging the dirty look on Arthur's face, Lucius went on, "I see you find it as repugnant as I do."

Still scowling, Arthur came around his desk to face him. "On the contrary, Lucius, I heartily believe in total equality for all witches and wizards, regardless of birth—and yes, even for Muggles."

Shocked speechless, Lucius stared back at him. Weasley was a blood traitor! He'd heard such rumors, dismissing them out of hand. At last, regaining his composure, he spat, "How…broadminded, if incredibly short-sighted. I see I'm wasting my time here."

"Evidently so," agreed Arthur, walking past him to the door. "Let me show you the way out."

Lucius spun around, his cloak billowing, and stomped after Arthur, though he stretched out a hand quickly to _accio_ some of the Muggle artifacts off the shelf containing the warning. He stuffed them up the sleeves of his robes as he strode out, with Weasley none the wiser.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Snape held out the two bottles of stolen Veritaserum to Voldemort, who motioned for him to set them on the floor at his feet. "It was all I dared take, master. Professor Slughorn would have been suspicious if any more were missing."

"You did well, Severus, very well. Because of your faithfulness and initiative, I've decided to reward you."

Severus shuddered, but kept his face blank. He recalled Lucius telling him how his 'reward' for bringing Snape into the fold had been to lead the group into the field to kill the Prewetts, which had ended in Lucius nearly losing his life.

"You will become a spy for me at Hogwarts. Keep an eye on that Headmaster Dumbledore, and keep your ears open with everyone else. Report to me as you gather any information."

"Yes, my lord," Snape said, once again startled and pleased to be selected for such an important task. "I'm very honored."

Voldemort nodded once. "As you should be. Go outside and wait."

Leaving the serum where he'd placed it, Severus bowed and did as he was told. All at once he felt the burning, throbbing pain in his forearm that denoted a summons. Being as he was already present, he surmised the dark lord was sending a signal to all the Death Eaters. Sure enough, moments later hooded, masked figures began Apparating all around the area, first only a few, then within minutes dozens more, until they finally stopped arriving. He estimated them to be about fifty men. They gathered slowly into a circle, leaving the head space open for the master.

A hand slapped against Severus' side and he looked over, realizing he was the only one not masked. "What?"

"It's me," said Regulus breathlessly.

"You're only sixteen," Severus said with growing anxiety. "They could trace you here!" The implication being they could all be caught.

"Don't worry. Rookwood had the trace removed." Severus could hear the smile in his voice, the excitement in his panting breaths.

When all was ready, the dark lord made his appearance, walking regally out into the meadow with Bellatrix sashaying behind him. As one the crowd of Death Eaters fell utterly silent and dropped to their knees. Leaving Bella in the open spot, Voldemort came to the middle of the circle, facilitating the grovel routine, as they were able to approach him from all sides. Once more he mused that he really ought to come up with another form of humiliating obeisance for them to observe. Nevertheless, there was no time for that now. If he didn't teach his minions to resist Veritaserum, it could spell disaster in the ranks. When they'd all returned to their places, he spoke in a high, hissing voice.

"I realize this is an unusual, perhaps even inconvenient time of day to call you here, what with leaving jobs and such. However, this is an extraordinary occasion. Snape here has discovered that the Ministry plans an all-out assault on Death Eaters, with _this_ as their weapon." He held up one of the vials of potion. "Veritaserum, which is being supplied in unprecedented quantities by potions masters across Britain."

A general stir and rumbling among the Death Eaters followed, one of whom piped up, "My lord, Snape is just a boy. How would he know Ministry business?"

"Funny you should ask, Yaxley," Voldemort crooned. "I'd have thought you or Rookwood or Malfoy would know what goes on at the Ministry." His wand aimed at Yaxley and delivered a jolt that knocked him off his feet. "Be grateful I'm merciful or you'd be squirming under the Cruciatus."

"Yes, my lord, thank you," croaked Yaxley, sitting up with difficulty. He crawled back to his spot, where the man beside him helped him to his feet.

"Your chore, my friends, is to learn how to override the influence of their drug so that if you're taken into custody, you don't reveal information damaging to our cause or to your fellow Death Eaters."

The general consensus being they had no idea how to accomplish this feat, no one spoke or moved. At last a brave voice ventured, "Master, I've read there exists an antidote to Veritaserum."

"And so there does," concurred the dark lord. "How many of you carry along a vial of it? No one? And in the event you were captured, do you think the aurors wouldn't search you and take it from you? Or, if you were quick enough to swallow it, would they not simply wait for its effects to wear off before drugging you?"

Again an uncomfortable silence settled over the group.

Voldemort strutted around the inner circumference of the circle, staring at each masked face, enjoying the smell of fear emanating from them, though his pleasure was tainted by wondering how much of this fear was for him and how much for the news of the Veritaserum. He also sensed apprehension, confusion swirling around, which he found distasteful; they felt helpless, hopeless, as if their master was unable to aid them!

"Some wizards can innately prevent the effects of this heinous drug," Voldemort intoned. "The vulnerable, the unsuspecting, the unskilled—these are the ones who need to worry."

"My lord, will you show us how to resist it?" The query came from the middle of the circle, from a voice unfamiliar to Severus.

"That's why you're here, Anderson. There are various methods, the easiest being Occlumency—and by that I mean easiest for myself, as I need not even put forth effort to utilize Occlumency."

Severus' heart leapt. Although the master didn't know it, _he_ possessed a great command of Occlumency! _He_ would be able to resist! He barely even listened to the rest of what was said, so relieved was he.

Voldemort continued his prowling about as he spoke. "For those skilled in wandless magic, transforming the serum into mere water before it touches the lips is an extremely effective measure. Since the serum already looks like water, the aurors would have no way to know that you were not telling them the truth. The third, and probably least valuable method, is to seal the throat to prevent swallowing. This, unfortunately, can be overcome fairly easily by massaging the throat or inducing swallowing by other methods."

He indicated the circle as he went on. "Pair up. You'll practice on each other under my supervision."

"I'll take blondie!" Bellatrix shrilled, her eyes lighting up. Oh, the secrets she could pry from him!

"No!" Lucius balked. "I already called Snape."

"You did not!"

"Did, too! In my head," he insisted.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Master…"

Voldemort held up a hand, feeling rather like a disgruntled father to a sizeable clan of unruly children. "Remove your masks and hoods. Pair up with the person _next_ to you," he amended his former command.

Bella smirked at Lucius, whose hood and mask shielded her from the evil glower shooting her way. She leaned in close and whispered, "The master said take those off. And your mind is sooo open to me."

"You wish," he hissed back, yanking them off. "The master taught me Occlumency, too."

Yet again the dark lord raised his voice. "I will administer the potion myself to only one person in each couple. Whoever receives the drug must lie convincingly to his partner, who will ask questions. The rest of you pay attention and learn." He had a vague impulse to turn to Lucius and Bella with his last comment, but suppressed it.

He walked over to Severus first off and measured the drops into Severus' mouth. Instantly the boy felt a peculiar, vacant sensation in his brain, and he wanted to laugh…was this how those Gryffindorks felt all the time?

"What's your name?" asked Regulus roughly, puffing himself up as an auror.

"Severus Snape," answered Severus.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Why do you have this Dark Mark on your arm?" pressed Regulus.

"I don't know."

"Why were you at the McKinnons' house?"

"I wasn't there. I don't know any McKinnons," said Snape. His stomach flopped and he felt the desire to be ill again, yet he must remain in control.

"You were seen there," Regulus said. "You're lying."

"I don't remember being there. You must be mistaken." God, he was cracking! _Get off this line of questioning, damn you!_

"You helped kill the McKinnon family, didn't you?"

"No!"

"You tortured them and murdered them. Admit it."

Severus lashed out, striking Regulus across the face, shoving him to the ground and straddling his body as he bellowed, "I said I didn't! I wasn't there!"

"Severus," came Voldemort's soft hiss. "Get up."

Severus stood up, abashed to remember the master had been listening, as was apparently everyone else in the group. His head felt strange and far away. "Forgive me, master. Have I failed you?"

"No, you performed admirably right up until you attacked the auror. I must discourage such behavior, as it tends to lend credence to accusations of violence."

He moved on to the next pair. The drugged man immediately caved, confessing everything the auror asked of him, making the dark lord's eyes narrow in fury. He pointed his wand and the man fell screaming to the ground under the Cruciatus. One by one he made his way around the circle, either praising the success or—more often—punishing the deficiency, until it was Bella and Lucius' turn.

"Drug him, my lord," Bella pleaded impishly. Voldemort complied, and Bella took her place in front of Lucius. "What is your name, scum!"

"Lucius Malfoy," he replied without hesitation. "And I believe you have my nickname confused with your own."

This elicited a laugh from the crowd, a hateful frown from the woman.

Expecting the same type of questions he'd heard repeatedly as each pair took a turn, he was thrown when Bella asked, "Do you love Cissy?"

"Yes." If he lied and said no, Bella would tell Narcissa, of that he had no doubt.

"Did you ever lust after me?"

"No!"

She gave a put-out look. "When's the last time you had sex?"

"That's none of your business." Despite the empty oddness in his skull, Lucius felt the distinct urge to wrap his hands around her throat. This wasn't what she was supposed to be asking!

"How many galleons did your robes cost?" she sneered.

"More than you could afford," he said snidely.

Bellatrix turned to Voldemort who, while enjoying Lucius' discomfort, found the session worthless. "My lord, I believe he's telling the truth on all these questions," she said in a hushed tone as if fearing Malfoy might hear her. "His instructions were to lie convincingly, which he hasn't done. He must not be able to obstruct the potion's influence."

"You bitch!" Lucius barked, something he'd not ordinarily dare, as he'd likely have to face her in a duel over it. "You're trying to get me punished because I won't say what you want to hear! Ask me something normal—master, please, _you_ ask me."

Voldemort raised his thin eyebrows a touch. It was entirely possible Malfoy told the truth to spite Bellatrix; the two acted like brats in need of spankings. "Alright, Lucius. Are you a Death Eater?"

"No, my lord." Oops. The _my lord_ part shouldn't have slipped out.

"I'm an _auror_ now, Lucius. What are the names of other Death Eaters?"

"I don't know any Death Eaters! I don't know why I'm being detained and harassed, but I assure you, you'll pay for it." The venomous ease with which he spewed the words out made plain that he was not buckling to the drug's effect.

"My lord," Bellatrix interrupted. "It probably wore off. Maybe he needs more."

Just to shut her up, and also to make sure she wasn't right, he dropped more liquid into Lucius' mouth. "Now, Malfoy, who am I?"

_Must lie_, he reminded himself. Coldly he replied, "I've never seen you before today. How would I know?"

Voldemort glanced over at Bellatrix with a look that said 'You were wrong. Any other bright ideas?' She ducked her head, pouting. She'd really wanted to see Lucius _crucio_'d, or better yet be permitted to do it herself. It wasn't that she _hated_ him, he simply got on her nerves.

The dark lord made the rounds one last time, this time drugging the other member of each pair. Regulus failed miserably, to be subsequently _crucio_'d into a sobbing heap on the ground. Dolohov passed with flying colors, one of only a minority who'd succeeded so far. By the time Voldemort reached Bella, a scant twenty-one men of the fifty had passed the test.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, you are charged with torturing and murdering Muggles," Lucius grinned, getting up close to her face. "Are you guilty?"

"Of course not."

"So, you don't hate Muggles? You don't wish they were all dead?"

A grim look of determination crossed her features. "No."

Lucius' grin became a cruel smile. "Tell me you like Muggles, that you think they're every bit as good as you are."

"I-I li-li—master, I can't, this is inhuman!" she screeched, shoving Lucius away. "That's not fair!"

"And aurors are so fair!" Lucius shot back. "At least I'm not asking you when you do it with Rodolphus or if he likes it or—"

"Shut up!" thundered Voldemort. "I should _crucio_ you both on general principles!" When his wand came up, they both ducked at the same instant. "Those of you who passed the test may go. Those who failed may go, but return tomorrow night at nine o'clock for practice in Occlumency before another test." He wheeled and stalked into the castle.

Numerous popping noises accompanied the leaving crowd, of which Lucius was not a part. Bellatrix glared at him, debating whether she should attack with fists or wand, certain she could take him either way, even if he _was_ stronger.

"Why are you still here?" she snarled.

"Again, none of your business," he replied and brushed past her into the castle. "Master, I have something for you!"

Voldemort stopped and turned, his expression clearly displaying ill humor. He should have punished them both for acting juvenile in front of everyone! And now the brat wouldn't even go home! "What is it?"

"I've procured a few Muggle artifacts from Arthur Weasley's office. They may be charmed, and I don't know what they are, but I felt certain you would know what to do with them." Lucius reached into the pockets of his robes to withdraw the two items, which he presented to the leader.

"Set them down and go," Voldemort ordered. Lucius beat a hasty retreat and Disapparated outside. He didn't hear the high cackled laugh resounding through the building. Ah, yes, this was one reason to keep Lucius Malfoy around! He laughed even harder, making Bella fear he'd been cursed by the horrid things.

Bewildered, Bella sidled up to the master, staring in wonder at the strange objects. "Are they dangerous, my lord?"

Voldemort picked up the roll of clear adhesive tape. "While useful for Muggles, who must drudge about their pitiful existence without magic, I can't imagine a scenario in which this might be dangerous, unless you tried to eat it." He tossed it back onto the floor and lifted the pink bottle with a plastic mermaid perched on top.

"It has a mermaid, master. Does that mean it's used for water torture?"

Her genuine curiosity combined with her and Lucius' lack of understanding of such mundane things cheered him considerably. "I suppose it could be. Let me show you the traditional use."

He took her hand, led her to the bathroom, and turned on the water in the tub. Uncapping the bottle, he poured in a little of the sweet strawberry smell, which instantly burst into bubbling pink froth. With a quick shrug, his robes dropped to the floor; as was often the case, he was nude underneath. He stepped into the tub, to Bella's distressed cry.

"It's called a bubble bath, Bellatrix." He extended a hand to her. "Come join me."

(Author's note: Information regarding Veritaserum was taken from the official JKRowling site, FAQ section.)


	27. Chapter 27

I, Too, Shall Follow--Chapter Twenty-Seven

With only three days to go until Easter holiday, spirits at Hogwarts ran high. Along with the high spirits came an attitude of prankishness, which had increased several fold among all the Houses as students let off steam from their studying. And so, it wasn't unexpected to find Slytherins among those pulling the shenanigans, though to hear the other Houses talk, they were the _only_ ones responsible.

Mulciber and Nott lounged against a half wall surrounding the busy courtyard on a crisp late-March day. Mulciber tilted his head slightly, motioning covertly with his eyes. "The classics are always the best. Watch." Moments later a fourth year Hufflepuff traipsed by; at precisely the right second, Jack stuck out a foot, the girl tripped, and she fell flat on her face sprawled on the ground, her books thrown willy-nilly about. The two boys roared with laughter.

"You don't even need a wand!" crowed Nott.

From inside the courtyard, Lily and James observed the commotion and made a beeline to assist the girl. Before the Gryffindors made it over, someone had already helped her up and collected her belongings, and the Hufflepuff scurried away in embarrassment, leaving a smirking Mulciber and a grinning Nott behind.

"I saw that, Mulciber," Lily stated. "Fifty points from Slytherin. You're lucky you didn't hurt her."

"You can't do that!" Jack protested. "It was an accident!"

James interrupted with, "Then why were you laughing?"

"It was a _funny_ accident."

"You're one to talk, Potter," said Nott. "I've seen you jinx plenty of people just cuz you felt like it, and you sure thought it was hilarious. We didn't even do anything, and this power hungry mudblood takes points from our House."

"Watch your mouth!" James had his wand in his hand, his eyes narrowing at Nott.

"What're you gonna do, Potter?" asked Jack as he slid his own wand from his pocket, out of view. "Torture him like you've done to Severus for seven years?"

"James, what's he talking about?" asked Lily. "You promised you quit."

"He's a liar, honey, like all Slytherins," answered James smoothly.

"Let's just go, James. I've done my duty as Head Girl." She tried to pull her boyfriend away.

Mulciber gave his finest state-of-the-art Slytherin sneer. "Yeah, go on. If you hurry you can hex some of the scum around Hogwarts like that blood traitor you hang out with, or some of those filthy mudbloods. Hey, you could start with the one right here!" He gestured blithely at Lily.

James' wand flashed over to Mulciber and a jet of red shot out. Ready for it, Jack turned it aside, immediately casting a silent spell that slapped Potter in the chest. Lily screeched as James buckled; she began screaming in earnest when the boy's torso started to twist in a monstrous fashion, joining his cries of agony with hers. Before their eyes, James' body from the waist up turned itself completely around until it aimed in the opposite direction of what nature intended.

"Freakish!" Nott breathed in awe.

"Now you can kiss your own arse for a change instead of expecting everybody else to do it," snickered Mulciber. He got up and took off at a run, Nott beside him, both laughing uproariously.

Behind them, Lily's frantic shrieks brought a multitude of onlookers and teachers, among them Professor McGonagall. She took one look at Potter and her jaw dropped. She'd seen loads of things students had done to one another over the years, but this topped them all. Potter stood unsteadily, dazed, peering down at his own rear end. Gathering her wits, she asked another teacher to fetch the Headmaster while she levitated James to the infirmary, as he couldn't quite get the hang of walking in his present condition.

McGonagall, Madame Pomfrey, and Dumbledore stood off in a corner buzzing among themselves, none having the faintest idea what spell had been used, nor how to reverse it. Various attempts by the three of them had been entirely ineffectual, increasing the hysteria exhibited by Lily, and transferring it to Potter.

"I hate to say it, but I believe this is the work of Dark Arts," said Minerva, clenching her thin lips into a line so tightly she scarcely appeared to have lips at all.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I'm afraid I have to agree. Miss Evans said Jack Mulciber was responsible for this. Have him sent to my office." So saying, he ambled out of the infirmary.

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"Jack, I'll ask you once more what spell you used." Dumbledore stood over the young man, glaring down at him. For a wizened old professor, he managed to pull off quite a menacing posture.

Mulciber, arms crossed defiantly, studied a spot on the wall where the plaster over the stones had cracked. Why should he tell? Potter deserved it! "What's in it for me if I tell you?"

"If you don't, I'll expel you and have aurors brought in to arrest you."

"For what? I didn't hurt him!" Jack exclaimed, no longer pretending disinterest.

"Have you ever tried to sit down in his position?" asked the Headmaster.

Rather insolently--and foolishly, considering the circumstances--Mulciber sniped, "You ought to leave him that way, since his whole ideology is ass-backwards." He chuckled to himself.

Dumbledore was not amused. "Tell me _now_."

"_Botah tyrnan_," Mulciber mumbled.

"And the countercurse?"

Jack sneered in spite of himself. "You're the greatest wizard in the world and you don't know something that easy?" He decided the incensed visage of the old man looked dangerously close to seriously harming him. "_Ontdoen botah tyrnan_."

Dumbledore waved a hand over the youth and walked out, leaving him alone. Jack tried to get up without success. He seemed to be stuck to the chair. When he attempted to go for his wand, he discovered his arms to be limp and lifeless. It would do no good to cry out, he was sure, and it was probably what the old coot wanted, he wished to frighten him, to make him beg. Well, he wouldn't. He'd sit here till kingdom come if he had to.

He didn't need to. Ten minutes later the Headmaster returned in a much better mood, though he gauged Jack appraisingly before he spoke. "Thank you, Jack, the spell has been reversed and Mr. Potter is wholly well."

"I told you I didn't hurt him."

"Nevertheless, dark magic has no place at Hogwarts. I've sent a letter to your parents informing them you'll be suspended for the next two days. You will, of course, be permitted to return after Easter. Your mother should be arriving very soon to take you home."

Another wave of his hand released the young man from the limp condition, though the news had shocked him into a state of paralysis. He was being suspended, and while it was a mere two days, it seemed an eternity. His mother was the one coming, that was good, but she'd tell his father; she'd have to, since the man was bound to notice his son was home but his daughters were still at school. As much as he'd like to hope his dad would be proud of him for hexing a blood traitor, his mind screamed the opposite. He'd used the Dark Arts--no, he'd been _caught_ using the Dark Arts, which might cast suspicion on Mr. Mulciber as the one teaching them to him, possibly even causing his father to be suspected of being a Death Eater.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. How many times had his father berated him for being brain damaged, an embarrassment to the family? Here he was, proving the man right. No wonder he refused to take his son to the dark lord, had told him Lord Voldemort would spit on useless slime like him--or worse, _avada kedavra_ him. He drew another shaky breath. This was going to be a long, miserable holiday.

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It was a feeling more than anything else that brought Lucius home early from work. Things simply weren't right! Narcissa had been distant the past couple of days, secretive, and he wanted to know why. Her denials of acting strangely fell on deaf ears, though he nodded along with her in understanding. He wasn't intending to spy on her, per se, that wasn't his style, he merely hoped to spend some quiet, romantic time alone to get her to let her guard down and confide in him. What was wrong with that?

He tossed his heavy cloak on the floor of the foyer; that stupid elf Dobby could pick it up. He saw its nasty bald head poking out from around the corner and was tempted to rush over to punch the sneaky monster. Why couldn't Dobby be like Sisidy--clean, well-behaved, affectionate? He wouldn't mind having a hundred Sisidys in the mansion. If he didn't believe his father would dent his skull for doing so, he'd drown the blasted Dobby in the pond, be rid of the annoying snoop for good.

"Dobby, where's my wife?" Lucius demanded.

"Outside, Master Lucius," the elf piped up in his squeaky voice from around the corner. "Miss Narcissa is taking a walk."

Lucius frowned. He and Narcissa often took walks together around the estate…he felt somehow offended that she'd do so without him. He flung open the door and went out leaving his cloak behind. It was too warm a day for the heavy thing anyway. From the porch he surveyed the grounds as far as he could see in every direction, then walked down the steps and continued around the side of the house. He thought he saw movement in the orchard, so he directed his steps that way. For some reason he thought it important to walk softly, lest Narcissa sense him approaching.

By the time he neared the orchard, he could tell his wife wasn't alone. He heard her sweet voice carrying to his ears, too far away to be understood, to be answered by another voice. Female. An apprehensive breath he didn't realize he was holding escaped in a sigh of relief. It was silly, after all. Even if it had been a man, he knew Narcissa couldn't betray him, their Unbreakable Vow of fidelity precluded it. No, it was the mere thought that she might _wish_ to cheat on him that had wounded him.

"Narcissa, who is--" Lucius' query died in his throat upon catching sight of the other woman. He stormed up to confront them. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Cissy said it would be alright."

"Lucius, please, she's not hurting anything!" his wife pleaded. "No one knows she's here."

Lucius turned to Narcissa, his face a mask of indignation. "How dare you? How could you bring her here knowing the trouble it could cause?"

"She's my sister," Narcissa murmured, taking his arm, her importuning eyes locking on his cold orbs.

"She's a disgusting blood traitor!" he roared back, making Narcissa cringe away.

"We used to be friends, Lucius," Andromeda reminded him gently. "Have I changed that much?"

"I'd say when you married a mudblood, you crossed the line," he seethed at her. "My father would be furious if he knew you were here."

"But he doesn't, and he won't unless you tell him," Narcissa murmured, trying to gather the courage to approach him again. She backed up in alarm when he started to rant.

"I won't permit you to sneak around my father's property--_my_ property--entertaining undesirables, Narcissa! I _will not_ allow you to sully the Malfoy name because of your emotions! If Bellatrix ever got wind of it, it would destroy us!"

"Lucius--"

"No excuses!" he growled. To Andromeda he ordered, "Get off my property, and don't come back!"

Andromeda looked at her sister, then Lucius, then back to Narcissa. "I'm sorry to be such trouble, Cissy. Lucius, how nice to see you again." With tears in her eyes she added a final comment, "I don't remember you being so harsh, Lucius. Time has hardened you." Then she Disapparated.

Narcissa burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. She started off toward the manor, but Lucius snatched her wrist and spun her around.

"I mean it, Narcissa. I don't want her on the grounds again."

"Let go of me," she cried, jerking her hand away. "You made it very clear, _master_." Again she tried to go and he blocked her way.

"Father thinks you're a fine, upstanding pureblood. I won't be the one to disillusion him, and neither will you."

"Are you threatening me, Lucius?" she gasped, appalled at the notion.

"I'm telling you the way it is. You're my wife, I have expectations that you pledged to uphold."

"Such as?"

"Such as conducting yourself like a Malfoy! I thought you despised Muggle filth as much as I do! I thought you took pride in being better than the rest! Apparently I was mistaken, you revel in hobnobbing with filth," he spat, eyeing her up and down angrily. She'd been slipping around seeing Andy wherever the hell they met, and he'd allowed it because it was her sister. She'd gone to see that bastard Sirius because he was her cousin, and Lucius had allowed it because he loved her. Now she was using that love against him, bringing the scum into his own home! He felt deceived, duped by her charm and beauty into failing to see who she really was, and now it was too late to do anything about it, they were yoked in marriage. The idea that she might actually be a sympathizer made him sick to his stomach.

Narcissa drew herself up, not bothering to wipe the tears trailing down her cheeks. So this was all he thought of her? After nearly four years of marriage, he was questioning not only her integrity, but the very core of her being? He questioned how dare _she_? How dare HE! He'd lost both his sister and his brother, she thought he understood the pain of losing a sibling. Maybe she gave him too much credit, maybe he hadn't the capacity to feel anything anymore!

"Andy was right, she hasn't changed at all, _you_ have. She made a terrible mistake in falling for a mudblood, but at least he treats her with respect, not like one of his house elves!" She shoved Lucius in the chest hard enough to push him out of her path.

"We haven't finished this discussion," Lucius said as he watched her walk away.

Over her shoulder Narcissa snapped, "As far as I'm concerned, we're finished with everything."

Staring at her retreating back, Lucius grimaced. What in hell's name was that supposed to mean, _'we're finished with everything'_? He blew out a loud, exasperated breath, then trudged along up to the mansion.

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"Lucius, is your wife coming down any time soon?" asked Abraxas as they sat at the dining room table, waiting. Every so often he glimpsed around for the girl.

"I thought she'd be here by now. She's probably pouting," he grumbled. He looked to be sulking himself.

"Did you have an argument?"

"Yes."

Lucius made no attempt to explain, nor did his father press him. He'd had plenty of 'discussions' with Lucius' mother, some of them ending in the woman sulking in their room for hours, even days. Those had been extremely unpleasant times for him, times he'd prefer not to dwell on. In fact, all he wanted to do was eat, he was starved.

"Sisidy," he said to the elf standing beside him lovingly stroking a bony hand across his shin.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?" she squeaked, smiling up at him.

"Go fetch Miss Narcissa from her room."

The elf's golf ball sized eyes grew to tennis balls and she shook her large head sadly, her ears flapping. "Sisidy can not, Master Malfoy. Miss Narcissa isn't being in her room."

"Where is she?"

"Miss Narcissa saying she wants out. She saying awful things of Master Lucius, awful things Sisidy not wanting to repeat." She turned a piteous look on the young man, who was regarding her closely. "Sisidy helpsing Miss Narcissa packing bags for leaving."

"Leaving?" echoed Lucius, jumping to his feet. "_Where is she_, Sisidy?"

"Miss Narcissa goes home to Black Manor."

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Severus dreaded going home, more out of habit than anything else. Years of turmoil had taught him to fear and dread any significant period spent at Spinner's End, yet he guardedly admitted to himself it hadn't been so terrible at Christmas, or even during the summer, despite his life-threatening injury--or more likely _because_ of it. His father had cut back a great deal on his drinking, for which Severus was grateful not only for his own personal health and safety, but for that of the twins.

He missed the kids. They were clingy and irritating because they rarely saw him, yet they were clever and gifted individuals, something he highly respected. Although he wouldn't have said so to Tina or Julius, he believed their nine-year-old potion skills exceeded those of most of the lumps who took up space in Potions lab, pretending to be marginally adequate students. He often wondered how some of them managed to dress themselves without help, let alone remembered how to totter from class to class without a trained monkey to guide them.

He Apparated into Hogsmeade as usual, and used the floo network from the Hog's Head to his home. He arrived to a silent house, which he thought strange. They knew he was coming.

"Mum! Is anybody here?"

No answer. He dropped his books on the coffee table of the cramped living room and strolled over to peer into the bedroom he shared with the kids. It was unoccupied, albeit a huge mess. He'd make sure to get on the brats about helping mum keep the house neat. The rest of the place looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. He flopped down on the couch to watch television, a treat the wizarding world had yet to catch up to. After scanning the channels, he decided maybe he wasn't missing much after all.

Where were they? The kids went to Muggle school, but surely they'd have been home by now. Dad would be at work, he wouldn't arrive for…he checked his wristwatch, one of the few Muggle inventions he found practical for his use. Ten minutes. He cast a glimpse out the front window in hopes of seeing Julius and Justina playing in the street as they'd been told so often not to do. They were nowhere in sight. Had mum got another part time job? And if so, where were the children? Severus got up to begin pacing the floor, annoyed by the fact that he was worried. It was likely nothing. He hated feeling helpless whether it be due to bullies at school or events he had no control over.

When at last the door creaked open and Tobias came in, a tremendous weight lifted off him, only to settle right back. "Dad, hi. Where's everybody?"

The man fixed his eyes on his son and Severus could almost see his mind working, debating whether to lie to him. "At the hospital," he said softly.

Severus blinked several times. "The hospital? What happened?"

"Severus, come sit down." Tobias walked around the sofa and lowered himself, patting the seat beside him.

"Dad, just tell me," he croaked, fear gripping his vocal cords.

"Your mum didn't want you to know, but I guess what with the circumstances she can hardly blame me," Tobias rambled, gazing off into nowhere.

"Dad!" Severus barked. His legs had begun to shake and he steadied himself on the back of the couch.

"Your mother's got cancer, son. We found out last month…" His voice trailed off into a choked sob.

Severus came around to collapse beside his father, his eyes like saucers in his head. This had to be a joke, only Tobias never joked. Why would mum want to keep this hidden from him? "What…what kind is it? Is she okay?"

"Lungs, inoperable," Tobias mumbled as if reciting a phrase he'd spoken far too often. "They're sayin' she's got maybe two or three years." He turned away his face to hide the sorrow, his trembling voice unable to be stilled, and he sniffed loudly.

_Three years. Maybe._ Stunned, Severus merely sat staring into space. But she'd seemed healthy, aside from an allergic cough caused by the dirty mill air… only it wasn't allergies, he realized with a sickening pang in his stomach. "Did she go to a wizard doctor?" he asked.

Tobias nodded. "They couldn't do much, so she went to this one here."

"Can't they help, either?" the youth asked in a strained, desperate voice.

"She's gettin' radiation treatments," he answered. "There's nothin' else. I'm sorry, Severus."

_It's not your fault_, Severus wanted to say, yet his mouth wouldn't cooperate. His mother was dying. It seemed so unreal. Over the years he'd taken her presence for granted, criticized her for her shortcomings, blamed her for much of the strife in the family; he wished he could take it all back. True or not, he had no right to hurt her. She loved him, she loved all of them, and he'd never been the perfect son he ought to have been, either. He angrily wiped unbidden tears off his cheeks.

"I want to see her, dad," he said finally.

Tobias nodded again and stood up. "The kids are with her. They're waitin' for us."

Severus rose as well. "Can…can mum come home, or…" He couldn't finish. The thought was too painful.

"Yeah, she'll be comin' home, but she don't look so good right now." He glanced over at Severus and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don't tell her so."

"I won't." Severus straightened his back, took a deep breath, and shoved his emotions down into the pit of his soul. "I'm ready to go."


	28. Chapter 28

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Eight

Abraxas arrived on his porch at the same time he did every other work day; his mood, however, left something to be desired. The door crashed open before him and he slammed it roughly after him. "Lucius!"

Sisidy popped in beside him with her typical adoring expression. "Master Lucius is in his study, Master Malfoy. Does Master wants Sisidy to fetch him?"

"No, I'll go up." He dropped his cloak on a hook and Disapparated.

Lucius half-sat, half-lounged on a leather sofa next to the large, open double windows, staring out into the gardens surrounding a marble fountain. He started when he noticed his father standing across the room, then swung his legs down to place his feet on the floor. The older man's stance, more than anything else, alerted him to the rage carefully hidden on his placid visage.

"Father, is something wrong?"

"You could say that," clipped the man, crossing the room to stand over him, an arm's length away, too close for Lucius' comfort. "I had an unusual visit from Cygnus Black today. You remember him, I'm sure—your wife's father?"

"I'm not an idiot, of course I remember him." Lucius edged away across the sofa before rising. "You've been friends for years, what's so unusual about him visiting you?"

"What I found _interesting_ was his snide query wondering when Malfoy men started beating their wives," said Abraxas through clenched teeth.

At first Lucius looked curiously at him, then the implication struck and he gaped openly, horrified. "I never!"

"Would you care to explain the finger-like bruises Cygnus saw on Narcissa's arm?"

Lucius geared up for a complete, outright denial before recalling his less-than-gentlemanly handling of Narcissa the previous afternoon. Shamefaced, he mumbled, "I only tried to detain her. I didn't intend to hurt her."

"Men are stronger than women to protect them, not to abuse them," his father lectured.

"I didn't abuse her!"

"I'd better never find out you did," replied Abraxas evenly, his gray eyes piercing the identical ones in Lucius' face. "Whatever this problem is between you, I suspect you're not the innocent party."

"What a shocker!" Lucius drawled sarcastically. "My father thinks I'm the one to blame. It would never occur to you that maybe Narcissa did something to provoke me, would it?"

"Don't get smart with me, son. I have no qualms about putting you in your place." He briefly considered smacking Lucius on general principles. Didn't the kid ever get tired of making scenes that would be scrutinized and gossiped about by their peers? He'd secretly courted Narcissa while she was engaged to another man, he'd gotten himself suspended from Hogwarts for a month for severely mistreating other students, he'd nearly gotten expelled at one point…the list went on. Causing his wife to leave him—well, that took the cake! "I want you to make up with Narcissa and bring her home."

"I don't think she's in the mood," the young man responded glumly. He lifted a diminutive pouch off the sofa, opened it, and poured a stream of tiny confetti onto the floor. "This is the last note I owled her, asking her to speak to me."

"What the hell did you do to her?" demanded Abraxas.

"Nothing! I yelled at her…scolded her like a child—like you do to me!" Until this very moment he hadn't understood why Narcissa was so upset, aside from not being allowed to bring her sister to Malfoy Manor, which she already knew was off limits. Now it hit him like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a breath and hung his head, feeling guilty. He hated being reprimanded like a little boy, yet he'd gone and done the exact same thing to his precious wife. Small wonder she was furious with him!

"Women don't like that," observed Abraxas sagely.

_You think_? Lucius was tempted to say, but thought better of it. "I'll go see her tomorrow whether she wants me to or not. If I start off with an apology, maybe she'll at least listen to me."

"She'll listen," said Abraxas with a certainty born of years of marriage. "Despite everything, she loves you."

"I said some pretty terrible things."

Abraxas shrugged, unconcerned. He'd said awful things to his wife in the heat of the moment, and she'd always forgiven him because they loved one another deeply. He wasn't blind, he saw the way those two gazed at each other like lovesick puppies. Narcissa would forgive him sooner or later, hopefully sooner. Gruffly he commented, "Son, if you can bow and scrape to that disgusting dark lord, you should have no trouble groveling at your beautiful wife's feet."

"Did you ever—you know, with Mother—did you have to beg?"

The older man's lips curled upward, then he began to chuckle. "Many times, son. Many times. You'd better get used to it now."

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Spinner's End seemed eerily calm. Tobias and Eileen had retired to their room, though the evening was young. The children played quietly in their own room, subdued by the seriousness of the situation. While they'd had a month to process the horrible news and become accustomed to it, Severus still felt positively shell-shocked. Yesterday it had taken all his willpower not to break down at the sight of his mother looking so frail, the by-product of the radiation intended to extend her life. Today he'd gone through the motions of living, without the faintest clue what he was doing. Only home for one day, he already felt ten years older.

He'd never heard of any cures for cancer in the wizarding world, though he'd never researched it, either. He'd had no reason to. If mum had gone to a medi-wizard who could offer no hope, what hope could he himself offer her? Potions for pain or nausea? She could make those herself, and probably did, although he'd be sure to ask her in the morning. Anything he could do to help would alleviate a minute bit of this anxiety, this feeling of uselessness bouncing inside his head like a pinball on steroids.

Without a thorough understanding of the nature of her cancer, how it spread, even what caused the mutations to begin with, Severus couldn't begin to establish a theory on how to halt it or reverse it. Hell, the scientists who _did_ understand all those things had nothing to offer, and it would take him years of study to approach their level. When he'd agreed to develop a potion for Narcissa, he'd believed it futile, but at least he had a good grasp of the reproductive system; entertaining the notion of stumbling upon a potion to cure his mother seemed as far remote from him as the east is from the west. Given unlimited time and luck, perhaps… Eileen didn't have unlimited time.

A hesitant knock at the door interrupted his brooding. He hoisted himself off the sofa and stumbled over to peer out the slatted window, then threw open the door. "Glenna, what are you—"

The girl rushed forward to encase him protectively in her arms. "Severus, I'm so sorry about your mum."

Severus' arms automatically folded around her. "How did you hear?"

"Your sister sent me an owl; she said she knew you wouldn't," explained Glenna, leaning her cheek on his chest.

Severus couldn't decide whether to be angry with Tina for interfering or grateful to have Glenna clasped to his breast. He chose grateful. Dragging her inside, he shut the door gently and led her over to sit with him on the sofa. "I'm glad you're here."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Master Regulus." Kreacher hopped up and down beside the boy's bed, carefully watching for signs of stirring. Poor Master Regulus had been so sickly of late, sleeping most of the time when he was home, going off every night and not returning until early morning, always looking the worse for wear. Kreacher reached out a bony hand to shake the lad's shoulder. "Master Regulus?"

Regulus groaned and rolled over. His body still ached from the previous night's 'discipline' session. Try as he might, he could not master Occlumency well enough to thwart the effects of Veritaserum, and each night he was punished for his failing. The dark lord had become creative with the handful of losers still abiding in training, using not only the Cruciatus but a variety of other spells designed to hurt but not kill. Last night the master decided to reward one Death Eater who finally passed the test: he allowed the man to vent his pain and frustration on the remaining inept group by kicking, punching, and jinxing them until he had no strength left to continue.

"What is it, Kreacher?" he moaned, struggling to a seated position.

"Mistress Black says Kreacher must bring good Master Regulus. There is company."

Interested, if still sore, Regulus managed to extract himself from the bed. "Tell my mother I'll be there as soon as I get dressed. Who is it?"

Kreacher thought his statement odd, inasmuch as Master Regulus had gone to bed dressed as if collapsing there after his long night, as he often did now. "Your aunt, uncle, and cousin."

Good. At least it wasn't Death Eaters or a bunch of people he despised. He absently petted Kreacher's head. "Thanks, Kreacher."

The elf rubbed his face against Regulus' pantleg. "Kreacher loves good Master Regulus."

"I know," he responded, smiling. He was quite fond of the elf himself, but growing up in this Black household he'd learned early on not to make the mistake of showing too much affection to anyone, especially to a house elf.

Kreacher popped out and Regulus wandered down the hall to the bathroom. A few minutes later he plodded down the stairs, put on a fake smile, and greeted his family. After the obligatory talk on pureblood supremacy and his devotion to the cause, he was permitted to amble off. Narcissa followed after him, catching up to him in the parlor.

"Reg, I know you say how great it is to be a Death Eater, but do you really mean it?"

The boy shrugged one shoulder and slumped down into a chair. "I don't really know. The master won't assign me anything because I'm a pathetic slob. All I've done so far is get tortured on a daily basis." He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"That's horrible, Reg! Why?"

"I can't tell you, only that there's a test I can't pass no matter how hard I try."

Narcissa sat on the footstool beside him and leaned in to speak softly. The portraits of the manor were known to be quite nosy. "Does Lucius know about this test?"

Regulus nodded. "He passed it right away, he and Bella both. The ones who didn't pass have to try over and over and over." His downcast eyes glazed as he pondered enduring these punishments for the rest of his life, until the dark lord decided he was useless and did away with him permanently. Then a random thought struck him. "Where is Lucius? How come he didn't come with you?"

"I left him," she said simply, as if such an explanation should suffice.

"You left him?" he repeated, stunned. The golden couple, the epitome of high society pairings, had separated? It wasn't done! "Why?"

"We had a dreadful fight over Andy, and he said vicious, hateful things." Narcissa pursed her lips, remembering. Only with Regulus could she speak so openly about Andromeda, for only with _her_ could Regulus speak candidly about Sirius. It bonded them in a web of deceit laced with silly emotions. "I didn't realize he could be so cruel."

Regulus choked back a snicker. Everyone who knew Lucius knew he had a cruel streak; maybe Cissy had truly never seen it before. "Everybody says mean things when they're mad, Cissy. You're not planning a divorce or something, are you?"

Narcissa laughed out loud. A divorce? Even if she wanted one—and yesterday she certainly did—the Malfoys would never let it happen. Their influence in the governing body and their under the table bribes would make sure it didn't go through, in order to save their impeccable reputation. And failing that, if she divorced Lucius, what could she do? Realistically, remarriage wasn't an option for either of them, since their Unbreakable Vow of fidelity bound Lucius to her, and she to him. The best she could do right now was to try not to think of him and how heartless he was. No such luck.

"Having a little party and you forgot to invite me?" Lucius leaned in the doorway of the parlor, smirking. _A-hah! I found you!_

"I didn't forget," Narcissa snapped haughtily. "You're not welcome at this party."

"That's not very sociable, Mrs. Malfoy," he drawled.

She turned her back, though she did ask, "How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "I went to Black Manor, where apparently your house elves have been instructed not to speak to me. I checked out the places you like to shop, but no one's seen you. Then I came here, where your parents and relatives seem bent on murdering me. What have you been telling them?"

"Should I leave?" asked Regulus uncomfortably, standing up.

Narcissa grabbed his shirt and jerked him back into the chair. Addressing her husband she said, "What do you want?"

"I want to apologize and to talk to you, Narcissa. Without Regulus hovering around."

"I'm not hover—"

Narcissa pinched his leg right on top of a bruise and he yelped, though he did shut up. She thought for a moment, then said, "Regulus is in a predicament. If you help him pass this Death Eater test thing, I'll talk to you."

_Death Eater test thing_? Lucius' head whipped over to Regulus, who was trying to slide down in the chair out of sight. Completely blanking out the expression on his face, Lucius said levelly, "Regulus, I think we need to talk."

"About what?" chirped the boy, only the top of his head visible over the back of the chair.

A moment later Lucius' hand clamped down on the lad's skull, snatching a handful of hair and yanking him upright till their eyes met. "Discretion. Go upstairs to your room and wait for me," he hissed, letting go of the hair.

Regulus scrambled past Narcissa, out the door, and the heavy stomping of his feet on the stairs was heard throughout the house. Indignant, Narcissa put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband.

"What was that about?" she demanded.

"You asked me to help him, did you not?" Lucius replied innocently.

"I didn't ask you to pull the hair halfway out of his head! If you don't want to help him, just say so!"

"I'll do what I can to assist him, love, but he has a big mouth. He shouldn't have told you anything."

"He didn't! All he said was he couldn't pass some test, but you passed it." Resentment of his treatment of her came rushing back two fold upon witnessing the uncalled-for roughness with her cousin. "What is wrong with you?"

"The dark lord doesn't take kindly to broadcasting our business." Lucius whirled on his heel and strode to the door. "When I finish, you agreed to speak to me. I'll hold you to it."

He Disapparated up to the boy's room, where Regulus stood nervously by the window. Hearing the rustling of Lucius' cloak, he turned around with a sheepish grin, unconsciously rubbing at his Dark Mark and looking as if he wished he could escape.

"I'm sorry, Lucius. I didn't mention the Veritaserum, I swear, I only—"

"Shut up and sit down."

Surprised and glad that Lucius hadn't actually _knocked_ him down, Regulus dropped onto the bed. With a wave of his hand he magically pushed a mound of clothing off his desk chair for Lucius. In spite of Lucius' command to be quiet, he felt the need to explain. "Every day the master gives us lessons in Occlumency. I think I'm doing okay, then he gives me the Veritaserum and I crack like a dry twig… I don't know what to do. The punishments get worse each time."

Lucius regarded him silently. He had no doubt the dark lord punished Regulus very harshly, but wasn't it partly his own fault? All he had to do was learn what he was being taught, it wasn't that hard to follow directions! "If you can't learn Occlumency from the greatest wizard in the world, the _dark lord himself_, how am I supposed to teach you?" he queried in agitated consternation. Of course Narcissa would make this a requirement for meeting with him! "Why don't you pay attention?"

"I do! I really try." His face started to flush with embarrassment. Naturally Malfoy wouldn't understand, he'd been able to learn! The heat of his shame and the stuffiness of the room were getting to him, making him sweat profusely. Another wave of his hand slid open the window. "Tell me how _you_ do it, maybe that would help."

Lucius wasn't listening, he was watching the boy in wonder and remembering. There were three ways to outwit Veritaserum, with Occlumency being most common… but the master had mentioned wandless magic—transformation. "Regulus, pass me that book." He pointed at a thick volume laying beside the bed. When the boy bent down to retrieve it, he said, "No. Use magic."

Regulus shrugged, took out his wand, and began to levitate the book until a sharp crack on his forearm knocked his wand from his fingers. He looked up, shocked and shaken. Lucius, aiming his own wand, indicated the book again. The boy stretched his hand out and lifted mentally; the volume twitched on the floor, thumping against the boards, then gradually lifted enough to skim over and fall at Lucius' feet.

"Well, well, well, little Regulus is skilled at wandless magic," he purred, quite pleased if also quite astounded. For any wizard it was most often limited; for one so young it was highly irregular, and in this case extremely fortunate. "Bring me some firewhiskey, boy."

While it seemed a strange request, Regulus trudged off to do as he was bidden. Maybe Lucius wanted a drink before training him. Or maybe he just wanted to get drunk and forget about teaching him. Or maybe—_Reg, shut up_! he scolded himself. He ended up back in the parlor where Narcissa lay alone on the couch, eyes closed. Ever so carefully he clicked open the liquor cabinet to remove a bottle of firewhiskey and a glass. What the heck, he took two glasses.

"Finished already?" she asked, peering over at his guilty posture.

"Um, no. Lucius said to bring this." With a boyish grin he loped off up the stairs.

Narcissa clenched her teeth in irritation—nay, fury. Lucius wasn't helping him at all, unless the test involved learning to get drunk! He was planning to spend time sucking down alcohol and corrupting her cousin, then come crawling to her as if he'd actually upheld his end of the bargain! Fine, let him try. She'd not fall for his charm or damnable handsome face, especially if it was contorted with firewhiskey!

Upstairs, Lucius dripped a few drops of firewhiskey into a glass, about the amount of Veritaserum typically used. He handed it to Regulus with the directive, "Concentrate. If you can transform _this_ into water, you can transform Veritaserum. They're both mind-altering substances, not really so different." Except the obvious differences like one makes you tell lies and the other the truth, but that was a minor point and he didn't feel like quibbling.

"I've never done this," said Regulus. Not without a wand, anyway. Okay, not ever. He wasn't even sure what spell he ought to use. Truth be told, he slept through most of his transfiguration classes, something he didn't think it wise to tell Lucius just now. Staring hard at the liquid in his hand, he ran through the spells he knew for transformations.

"_Transformare_." The liquid bubbled a bit, then settled again. "_Convers hydor_." No noticeable effect. "_Mutatus hydor_," he muttered. The drops of firewhiskey leaped out of the glass, seemingly alive, to Regulus' startled cry.

"_Finite incantatem_," Lucius growled, his wand aimed at the errant firewhiskey drops. They splatted to the floor and soaked into the rug. So far the kid was doing a wretched job, unless one considered he'd managed to pull off the last trick without a wand!

"Sorry, Lucius."

"It's alright, you're doing fine." He poured a tiny bit more liquor into the glass. "Try this: _Cambire theos en te vain._ And do it silently. If the aurors know you're transforming it, it defeats the purpose."

Regulus repeated the incantation several times, then stared at the glass as he willed the liquid to change. All at once it faded to clear; Regulus jerked his head up to see Lucius looking as thrilled as he felt. Lucius smelled the stuff, then cautiously dipped a finger in and tasted it. His broad smile and hearty clap on the boy's back said the trial had been successful.

"How did you know the spell?" asked Regulus, beaming.

Still grinning himself, Lucius shrugged. "I didn't, I made it up. I used to do that all the time in McGonagall's classes, putting together phrases she'd taught us. Most of the time they worked." With a smug smirk he added, "I guess I haven't lost the touch."

"Thanks, Lucius, I appreciate it."

"You're not done yet. You have to be able to change it as it's being dumped into your mouth; it's got to be instantaneous."

Regulus nodded his understanding and opened his mouth. While Lucius poured, he concentrated on the spell which worked at first, but Malfoy kept on pouring. Gagging and coughing, he pulled away, spitting a mouthful of watered down firewhiskey on the floor.

"Are you trying to drown me?" he bellowed.

"Sorry," Lucius murmured, not looking sorry at all. "I wanted to see how much you could transform."

"I guess you got your answer!"

"Yes, I did. Nearly a mouthful, which is purely astonishing considering you're a kid and they'd never use that much. I think you're ready for your test." As an afterthought he added, "Don't try that spell on just any drink. It could be cursed or charmed, in which case it wouldn't work, and could make big problems, one spell colliding with the other."

"I don't go around drinking beverages I find in the street," said Regulus dryly. "But thanks again."

Lucius inclined his head in what might be interpreted as a mock bow, were Regulus not familiar with his style. "Let me know how you fare tonight. I need to go see my wife." He Apparated downstairs to the parlor, where Narcissa glowered at him.

"All done drinking? Or did you come for another bottle?"

Lucius heaved a martyr-like sigh. "Do I smell like I've been drinking?"

Narcissa came just close enough to sniff him perfunctorily. "No."

"I did my part, now you come with me." He led her outside by the hand and Disapparated. They reappeared on the front porch of Narcissa's parents' house where he made a beeline for the swing; he sat down, beckoning her to follow. He kicked back and forth, smiling to himself as he studied her. "We had our first kiss here on this swing."

"I remember." It tore at her heart. How could he do this, deliberately choosing this spot to evoke her wonderful memories, trying to weaken her resolve? She refused to sit.

"Honey, I'm sorry."

In a cruel tone she answered, "For what? Expecting your wife to be a Malfoy? For hating Muggles? Those are perfectly normal and acceptable."

"For hurting you." Lucius leaned up, brushed back her sleeve, and tenderly kissed the bruised wrist over and over, then took out his wand and healed the purple marks. "This wasn't intentional, sweetheart. I swear it won't happen again."

"I know you didn't mean to do it," she conceded, tears forming in her eyes. "But the wounds you gouged into my heart were deliberate, and they're the ones that hurt."

The man rose, unsure whether she'd let him embrace her but desperately wanting to. "I overreacted. There's no justification for some of the things I said, but please let me explain why I flew into a, uh, snit."

"'Tantrum' would be more appropriate."

"Tantrum, then," he agreed. "Narcissa, for days I was consumed with worry and jealousy…you were acting odd and denying it. When I saw her—"

"She has a name."

"When I saw Andromeda there, I was livid. You had no right to bring her to the manor."

"Why? If someone found out, your precious name might be besmirched?" said Narcissa coldly.

"That's a small part of it," Lucius admitted, earning rolled eyes from his wife. "You'd be disowned, our families would be shamed. Mostly, though, I was afraid." Narcissa's countenance changed to surprise. "If Bella ever finds out, she'll tell everyone, which_would_ ruin our reputation, but the one I dearly don't want to know is the one she'd run to. The dark lord…well, he wouldn't be pleased."

A glimmer of understanding wormed its way into Narcissa's brain. If the dark lord thought Lucius entertained mudblood-lovers, he'd be furious, and no doubt he'd act on that fury. "He'd think you weren't loyal enough to the pureblood cause. He'd torture you." Her voice faltered over the words.

Lucius nodded. "Yes. More than that, he might target the family to teach me a lesson. He's done it to others. I can't lose you, Narcissa." His hands clasped hers and she made no move to free them. "You're the air I breathe, and if he hurt you or killed you, I'd as soon die myself. Life means nothing without you to share it with me. If that makes me an ogre, so be it."

With one quick movement she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. "If you're an ogre, you're _my_ ogre, and I love you, Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius held her close as he backed up to the swing and sat down, guiding her down beside him. Without a word, he crushed his lips hungrily to hers.


	29. Chapter 29

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Twenty-Nine

Severus arrived home from Lucius' twenty-second birthday party in a slightly less morose mood than he'd gone with. He'd dropped Glenna off at her house, staying only long enough to snog on the front porch before her parents signaled it was time for her to come in, leaving him with little choice but to go home himself. He dreaded going home for altogether different reasons than he used to dread it.

He Apparated into the back garden and straightened the fine black robes Mr. Malfoy had given him for Christmas. This was his first opportunity to wear the robes apart from the day he'd received them, and it made him smile. No matter what anyone said, the Malfoys were good people. As noiselessly as possible he cracked open the back door and slipped inside, expecting everyone to be asleep. To his dismay, Tobias and Eileen were on the couch, sitting close together, his arm around her shoulders.

"Hi," Severus said quietly.

The couple turned their heads. "Hi, Severus, did you have a good time?" asked Eileen in a tired, strained voice.

"Yeah. The Malfoys know how to put on a party." He walked around to sit in a ratty armchair facing his parents. "How come you're still up?"

"Your mum wasn't feelin' well," answered Tobias. "She couldn't sleep." The bags under his eyes could attest the same of him.

"I told your father to go to bed, but he won't listen," she said, chiding.

"Dad, go on to bed. I'll keep mum company till she's ready to sleep," said Severus.

Tobias looked at his wife, who gave him an encouraging smile and nod. He got up, kissed her, and turned to his son with an expression of gratitude in his eyes. "Goodnight, son." One hand patted Severus' shoulder warmly, then he went on to his room.

"Goodnight, dad." The tenderness of his father's touch shot through him as something he'd not felt in so long he'd forgotten it existed, and his eyes followed the man out of the room. His gaze drifted back to his mother. "Are you okay, mum? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine, sweetie," she answered with the nickname for him she used only when they were alone. "I'm so proud of you, Severus—your dad and me both. This whole—_thing_—is hard on us all, yet you stepped right up to help."

She was referring to the potions he'd brewed, he assumed, which in his mind constituted practically nothing at all. "I wish I could be of assistance for real, mum. The money Lucius has been paying me isn't enough. When I graduate I'll get a job so I can contribute properly."

"What would you like to do after graduation?" Eileen asked.

Severus paused, stumped. He'd never honestly taken the time to think out what he'd like to be or do, since he didn't envision ever having the chance to create his own path. Lord Voldemort determined the course of his life; whatever Severus might want or like or care about was irrelevant. Still, it didn't hurt to dream. "I'd like to have my own potions shop where witches and wizards from all over the world would come for special brews only I knew how to make."

Eileen smiled indulgently. That was her boy, alright. "You could do it, you know. I'll bet Lucius Malfoy would loan you the money to start a business."

"Maybe," Severus hedged. No doubt existed in his mind that Lucius would loan him the money if he asked—probably outright _give_ him the money if Narcissa got pregnant soon, but he couldn't take advantage that way. How many years would it take to repay such a loan? More than he cared to think about.

"I wish your father and I could lend a hand. We'd like to see our children living in a better place than this to raise their families."

"You did the best you could, mum. I'm not complaining."

"No, you're not one to complain, Severus," she said softly. Then, out of the blue she asked, "Are you planning to marry Glenna?"

Eyebrows raised a notch, Severus shrugged noncommittally. "We're too young to think about that."

"You used to like that redhead girl, what was her name—Lily. Whatever happened to her?"

"We were just friends," he said roughly, blushing. "We don't even speak anymore."

"Glenna's a nice girl, you should think about your future," Eileen persisted.

"Mum, can we talk about something else? This is kind of personal."

"Fine. Come sit with me." Severus got up, moved to the couch, and lightly touched down beside his mother. She stroked her hand across the fabric of his sleeve, delighted by its softness, its sheer finery. _Those Malfoys sure do know how to live_, she thought. "Tell me a story to put me to sleep."

"You want me to bore you to sleep?" he asked drolly. "How flattering."

"Severus…"

"Okay. Once upon a time there was a Prince and a werewolf…" he began, smiling to himself. With a little tweaking, this story could turn out very satisfactorily, especially at the part where the evil knave who tricked the Prince gets eaten by his own dear werewolf friend.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Mr. Malfoy, Douglas Cabe is here to see you." Lucius' secretary waited in the doorway for instructions. She dared not simply send the man in and risk enduring one of Malfoy's calm, snide diatribes that made her feel incredibly small. And the way he condescendingly cocked his eyebrows and gave that arrogant sneer!

"Send him in," said Lucius, not even looking up from the papers on his desk.

A very mediocre-looking man came in and extended a hand to Lucius. From his medium height and build to his average looks to the pedestrian gray robes, he was so ordinary one might forget him the moment he was out of sight. "Mr. Malfoy, how kind of you to call for me. I can't say enough about the generosity of the Malfoy family to St. Mungo's Hospital."

Lucius rose to shake the man's hand, though he found it hard to smile through his troubled countenance. "Of course, Chairman Cabe, the Malfoy name is synonymous with altruism." Here the corners of his mouth jerked upward involuntarily. As a rule, unselfish concern for others hardly made the list of the top ten priorities when donating to a charity. "Won't you have a seat?"

Cabe settled himself in the chair across the desk from Lucius. "Your father is a strong supporter of charitable causes. It's heartening to see his son follow in his footsteps."

"My father is an excellent teacher in many ways." Lucius finished scribbling in a lavish figure on the check before him, then signed his name with a flourish. He held out the check for Cabe to get a glimpse of the number, and watched the man's eyes grow wide with disbelief. "I believe St. Mungo's is hoping to build a new wing. This should assist along those lines."

Cabe managed to snap his gaping mouth shut, then he nodded and cleared his throat. "This is a substantial amount, Mr. Malfoy. We can't thank you enough."

Lucius smiled and nodded in his polite-businessman fashion. "Of course, as you are the Chairman of the Board at St. Mungo's, I must assume you carry great weight in policy matters, or perhaps even isolated cases."

"Yes," Mr. Cabe admitted with a fleeting look of worry, envisioning the money slipping through his grasp.

"So I trust that if any member of the Snape family were in need of care, they would receive said care at severely reduced fees."

"I think that can be arranged," said the Chairman, brightening. "But why reduced fees? Why not free of charge?"

"The family is proud, they would view it as an insult and shun it as such," explained Lucius coolly. Severus would, at any rate. Even if he accepted the care for his mother's sake, he'd resent Lucius for making him feel impotent to pay even a portion of his own way. Malfoy leaned in, eyeing the other man, and drawled, "Naturally, they wouldn't be informed that their rates differed from any other."

"Naturally," agreed Cabe.

Standing up once more, Lucius presented him the check and extended a hand. Cabe pumped his arm up and down furiously while going on about how grateful all the people of St. Mungo's were and what a beneficent being Malfoy was. Lucius walked him out to the corridor where witches and wizards scurried by, others appeared and vanished through the floo network.

"Good day, Chairman Cabe. Oh, and—" He lifted a finger, frowning slightly as if he'd just remembered something. The other man halted in his tracks. "Would it be too much trouble to send a medi-witch round to the Snape residence? I understand Eileen Snape visited someone at St. Mungo's recently. The family perhaps didn't understand that treatment options rival those of the Muggle world, at a fraction of the cost of private care, without a waiting period for services."

"I'll see to it, Mr. Malfoy. Thank you, sir, and have a wonderful day." Cabe stepped into one of the chimney niches and floo'd away.

Long after he'd gone, Lucius continued to stare at the empty spot, unseeing. Only a few days ago, at his birthday celebration, Glenna had taken him aside to let it slip, evidently intentionally, that Severus' mother suffered from inoperable lung cancer. Obviously the girl knew her boyfriend well enough to anticipate his silence on the subject, for Severus hadn't brought up so much as a hint that anything was amiss. He wondered how many other undiscussed calamities had befallen the family in the years he'd known Severus.

The sound of unruly children jostling each other and making undue commotion in a public space caused Lucius to turn around. Three red-haired boys ranging from a toddler to approximately eight years of age were racing down the corridor. The youngest, a wiry little runt, tripped over his own feet, flew through the air headfirst, and collided heavily with the floor face first. His explosive screams ripped down the hallway.

Lucius grimaced as he covered his ears. What kind of parents permitted their children to run wild like barbarians? _Malfoy_ children were polite and well behaved in public, if not always in private. They didn't make scenes, they didn't squall, and they certainly didn't _bleed_ on the floor. Oh, good Lord, the brat was bleeding!

The little boy had been aided to his feet by his brothers; from his nose and mouth, streams of blood dripped onto the second-hand robes that looked suspiciously like a poor attempt at Muggle clothing. Lucius feared if the holy terror of a child weren't soon silenced, everyone within listening distance would become hearing impaired.

With a disgruntled sigh he strode over, waved his wand to staunch the flow of blood, then again to _scourgify_ the pathetic clothes. "I take it nothing is broken," he observed dryly, watching the imp try to wiggle out of his brother's grip.

"Thanks, mister," said the oldest boy. "Percy's okay, he's just clumsy."

"Indeed."

"Biw, wet go!" Percy whined. "Charwie, hewp!"

"Where are your parents?" inquired Lucius with a stern gaze.

"Dad's coming, he got held up—oh, there he is!" Bill pointed down the corridor at none other than Arthur Weasley hurrying toward them. Percy took the opportunity to break free and tear toward his father, who caught him as he plunged once more headfirst at the floor.

Arthur lifted the boy into his arms, breathlessly approaching the others as he tried to imagine what Lucius Malfoy was doing with his family. "Lucius. Is there something you need?"

With a straight face, Lucius drawled, "Yes, Arthur. After your child's little display, I may need a trip to St. Mungo's to repair the damage to my eardrums."

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you," replied Arthur. To the three lads he said in a tone that didn't quite pass as cross, "I told you to wait for me." The boys muttered insincere apologies, though Arthur wasn't listening. He was still wondering why Malfoy hadn't gone on his way.

"You know, Arthur, I didn't realize today was 'bring your litter to work' day. Perhaps I should have marked it on my calendar."

Unable to resist a cruel retort, Arthur said pleasantly, "As soon as you manage to have a litter, let me know. I'll be sure to keep you posted." He hustled the children off down the hallway.

The wand in Lucius' fingers twitched with a sheer desire to hex the man out of existence. While he couldn't tolerate the horrid thought of raising dozens of brats as Weasley apparently did, it struck at his heart to know he never _could_ have a troop of his own. It seemed blatantly unjust that blood traitors like Weasley could produce children on practically a daily basis, yet he and Narcissa struggled to conceive even one.

Brooding silently, he stalked back to his office and slammed the door.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus hated the Hogwarts train. If it weren't for Glenna, he'd shun it for the rest of his life. However, since Glenna liked riding with her friends, and more especially she enjoyed the hours together snuggling with Severus, he'd consented to step foot on the loathsome express. Already he was beginning to regret it. First he'd had a minor run-in with Peter Pettigrew, who'd turned tail and scurried away like a rat when Severus brandished his wand. Now his roommate Nott was bothering him.

"Sev, can I talk to you?"

"Can't it wait until we get to school?" He found it patently pointless in belaboring the issue of being called 'Sev'; it had done no good for the past two years, it would likely do no good now.

"I don't think so."

Severus got up, stepped outside the compartment, and slid the door closed. "What is it, Nott?"

"There's something wrong with Mulciber," said the boy in a hushed voice.

"And that concerns me how?"

"Everybody knows you're good at healing. Can you help him?"

Severus rolled his eyes. Admittedly, Nott wasn't the brightest candle on the stand, but he had to know of the rivalry for Glenna's affections, the ensuing animosity. "Could I help? Maybe. Do I want to? No."

He placed his hand on the compartment door handle; Nott tugged on his arm, pulling him away, upsetting his balance and nearly sending him face first into the opposite wall. Glowering fiercely, Severus stood up and wheeled to face him.

"Do that again and _you'll_ be in need of healing," he hissed.

"Sorry," squeaked Nott. "Snape, come on, at least look at him."

Demanding that he send Mulciber to the hospital not being an option at the moment, Severus said, "Aren't there any teachers on board?"

Nott shook his head. With a disgruntled grimace, Severus followed him down three compartments. Inside, Jack Mulciber lay on his side across one full seat, moaning softly. Opposite him sat another seventh year, looking extremely grave. Severus came in and knelt down beside Mulciber, wand in hand. If this was Mulciber's idea of a joke, Severus would give him reason to need the infirmary.

As soon as Severus laid eyes on Jack's face, he knew it was no prank. One eye was bruised and swollen shut, and his hands gripped his abdomen. He pressed a palm to Jack's forehead; the skin was warm with growing fever.

"Mulciber, what happened?"

"His dad did it," Nott answered for him. "They were on the platform waiting for the train, I saw the whole thing. He was chewing him out about something, then he hexed Jack in the stomach when he thought nobody was around. Well, he saw me, but he didn't care."

Severus gingerly rolled the boy face up, revealing what appeared to be an older bruise on his other cheek. With gentle, palpitating motions he inspected Jack's abdomen, where the pain and tenderness on the left side under his ribs was more severe.

"Mulciber, this is very important, listen to me. I think you may have a ruptured spleen. Do you feel dizzy or confused? Can you see alright?"

"No, I'm okay," he mumbled back.

"What's a ruptured spleen?" asked Nott.

"The spleen is an organ. If it gets ripped, it causes internal bleeding. Even a small rip can cause bleeding to death if he doesn't get medical assistance," explained Severus, feeling like he was talking to a ten-year-old. Honestly, didn't half the students at Hogwarts ever crack a book?

"Can you fix it?"

"I don't know." Severus pointed his wand at the damaged area, muttering sing-song incantations to stem the flow of blood and to repair tissue. How successful he was, he had no idea. Another spell to alleviate abdominal bruising and swelling brought some relief. "As soon as we get to Hogwarts, you need to go to the infirmary."

"They'd tell him! That's all he'd need to prove how weak and worthless I am," Jack said bitterly. His voice was stronger now, less full of agony.

"Dammit, Mulciber, you could die! I can't verify that I fixed your spleen," Snape argued irritably.

"I don't care, let me die!" answered Jack. "It's better than having him find out people know what he did. He'll punish me again." All at once his tone changed to pleading. "Anyway, it was my fault for embarrassing him by getting suspended, and he was just warning me not to get in trouble again. He's hit me with that spell lots of times before without hurting me. Don't tell him."

Severus and Nott exchanged grim glances, and in that instant Severus recognized something that made him almost physically ill: Nott had known all along about Mulciber, Sr., the way he treated Jack, the Cruciatus. None of it was new to him. It shouldn't be surprising, though, since Nott, Sr. was also a Death Eater, their families were likely friendly with each other. But why had he never said anything? Then again, why would he? It was only asking for problems.

"We're not telling anybody," said Severus gruffly. Another few swipes and flicks of his wand eliminated the facial bruises and substantially reduced the swelling to nearly unnoticeable. "When you go to the infirmary, say you fell on the step getting on the train. That will account for any accumulation of blood."

Jack nodded. "Thanks, Snape."

"Yeah." Severus got up. "By the way, I thought what you did to the Potter puke was brilliant. I wish I could've been there."

Mulciber grinned in spite of the pain. "I thought it was pretty clever myself. If I hadn't got caught, I'll bet my dad would've laughed his head off about it."

"He probably would," Severus concurred. "I'm going back to my compartment now. Nott, make sure he doesn't move around, and drag him to Madame Pomfrey if you have to." He slid open the door and left.

Nott, who'd been hovering above Severus during the ministrations, finally sat down next to the other boy, his eyes still fixed on Mulciber. They'd been friends since they were small boys. His dad hadn't meant to hurt him, had he? No, of course not, he'd hexed him that way before, Nott had borne witness to it on other occasions. Yet, so close on the heels of the meeting with the dark lord…

_"Extend your left arm," ordered Lord Voldemort._

_Nott had done as asked, felt the wand touch his flesh, and he'd screamed with an agony he'd never felt or knew existed. Then it was over. As simple as that he was a Death Eater like his father._

Nott rubbed a hand across the sensitive flesh of his forearm. It would take a few days to stop hurting, he'd been told. A range of emotions ran through his mind: pride, fear, uncertainty. He was a Death Eater now, he was special. Because of who he was, he dared not fail in whatever the master demanded of him, yet his father had assured him Lord Voldemort wouldn't ask anything right away, and even later it would be simple things. Simple was good. He scowled to recall the way Mulciber's father had spoken of him, saying things Nott wouldn't repeat to him.

_Lord Voldemort turned away from Nott, who now knelt on the stone floor hugging his arm. Aside from his father, Nott recognized Jack's dad, Avery and his son, and Dolohov. The master was speaking to Mulciber, Sr._

_"Lewis, your son is of age now, isn't he?"_

_"Yes, my lord." He seemed honestly confused as to the nature of this questioning._

_"Avery brought his son a few years back. Nott has brought his son. Do you not see fit to bring your own into my service? Are you disloyal to the cause?"_

_"My lord, I'm completely loyal!" Lewis Mulciber exclaimed, falling to his knees. "I've served you for over twenty years! If I thought my worthless spawn could serve you properly, I'd have brought him when he turned sixteen."_

_The master stood over him, intimidating in his savage visage, in the wand nonchalantly balanced on his palm, in the snakelike hiss escaping him. "I think myself competent to judge whether a candidate is acceptable, Lewis."_

_"Yes, my lord, it's just…" Mulciber actually blushed as if from shame, ducking his head. "He's…he's only a notch above retarded, master. He'd be worse than useless, he'd be a hindrance to our noble cause. How could I show you such disrespect by asking you to include him among your Death Eaters?"_

_Lord Voldemort's wand snapped up, lifting Mulciber's face. He took two steps forward to peer into the man's eyes. After only a minute he let Mulciber go. "I suppose your hesitancy was valid. I hardly need a cretin prattling about."_

Nott clenched his fists in silent fury. Jack wasn't retarded! And yet, his dad must view him that way, for Voldemort was satisfied with his explanation after sifting his thoughts and memories. Jack would never be permitted to be a Death Eater now, he'd be lucky not to be killed on the spot if he convinced someone else to take him to the dark lord. Nott would have to talk to him about that, make sure he understood where he stood with the master.

He leaned back, letting the tension ease from his body. It was just as well. Jack only wanted to be a Death Eater to please his father; since _that_ wasn't going to happen, he'd be better off this way. He hoped they'd still be friends after they graduated and went their separate ways. And Severus. He _was_ a Death Eater, yet he never wanted to talk about it, maybe because Nott wasn't yet one of the fold. Now he was, and he couldn't wait to hear what Severus had to say about it.


	30. Chapter 30

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty

"Lucius, are you ready?" Narcissa shrilled up the staircase. He heard her, she was certain, he was probably hiding out somewhere hoping she'd get tired of waiting and leave without him. That bloody well wasn't going to happen, not after he'd promised to go shopping with her!

She'd just made up her mind to send a house elf to search him out when Lucius came plodding down the stairs, a glum expression marring his handsomeness. His hair, unlike days when he had to work, hung free past his shoulders, though as always his robes were impeccable.

"Love, must I go? I'd only be in the way," he pleaded with a tiny pout and doe eyes.

"You promised," Narcissa reminded him. "Besides, I don't like to shop alone."

"Bella was supposed to go," he grumbled under his breath, silently cursing the evil witch for bailing on Narcissa and forcing _him_ to step up to the plate like a true gentleman, regardless of his sentiments regarding the wretched trial to come. Oh, what he didn't go through for his woman! "Shopping is a job for an elf." He stomped the remaining steps to the floor.

"What are you mumbling, dear?"

"Nothing, sweetheart, I just observed that your lovely sister ought to be here about now. Didn't she invite herself on your little spree?"

"She's probably busy," said Narcissa, fluffing her hair in the foyer mirror.

_Doing what, I wonder_, Lucius thought snidely. The wench barely left the dark lord's side anymore, it didn't take vast amounts of reasoning to deduce who and what was keeping her busy.

Together they went outside, clasped hands, and Apparated to Horizont Alley, where a wide variety of upscale stores and restaurants were located. Narcissa, beaming, dragged her husband off toward one of them. As they drew near, he noted the name, 'Essential Foundations', and a couple of signs blocking out the windows. _Sale! Sexy pumps to drive him wild. All thongs ½ off._

Lucius cocked an eyebrow and smirked. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. In fact, it would be downright exciting, even erotic if he was lucky and his beautiful wife modeled the merchandise for him! He followed Narcissa in, to find himself immediately bewildered. In confusion he turned circles—yes, the signs were in the windows—and craned his neck to view the entire shop. He let out an exasperated breath.

"This is a shoe store!"

Narcissa looked down her nose at him, wrinkling it slightly. "Yes, dear. What did you think it was?"

"It's_ supposed_ to be sexy underwear! When's the last time a shoe drove me wild?" he snarled.

"What?"

"The signs!" he said, pointing furiously at the front window, nearly speechless from anger. "They say—it's a huge lie! False advertising! The prevaricators should be drawn and quartered!"

"Lucius, are you quite alright?" asked Narcissa as she led him to a stool to sit down, worry glinting from her blue orbs. She'd never known shoes could cause such a reaction.

Momentarily a middle-aged witch popped in beside them. "Welcome to Essential Foundations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. How lovely to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy. Can I get you anything?"

"Firewhiskey," Lucius said.

The employee hesitated, then smiled. "We don't ordinarily stock firewhiskey. Would champagne from the south of France suit your taste?"

Lucius' head bobbed. As long as it contained alcohol, it would do. A simple_ accio_ brought two glasses of the champagne; Lucius gulped his. "Could I have the bottle?"

"No problem, sir," answered the witch with an odd sidelong glance at Narcissa, who pretended none of this bothered her in the least. Another _accio_ summoned a nearly full, chilled bottle, which she handed to Lucius. "So, are we shopping for the lady or the man of the house?"

Lucius pointed at his wife while downing another glass.

"For me," said Narcissa, resisting a strong desire to slap him. "I'd like to try on all the new shoes of the season. Lucius can't wait to give his opinion on them, can you, dear?"

"No, I can't wait," parroted the man, already finished with his third glass. Now that the buzz had begun to kick in, he honestly didn't mind being here, as long as he didn't have to get up or do anything.

Seven pairs of boots, six pairs of sandals, and eighteen pairs of shoes later—fourteen of which Lucius thought were strikingly similar—Narcissa had finished modeling. He had to admit, he did love watching her walk back and forth, wiggling her rear just for him, though he found it immensely tedious to come up with so many intriguing or even banal comments on _footwear_. Fortunately, the champagne having loosened his tongue, he was able to make what he considered to be insightful, witty, helpful observations sure to endear him to his wife.

Having selected a meager three pairs from the mountain to purchase, Narcissa directed the woman to charge them to her account and have two of them sent to Malfoy Manor. The third she slipped on to wear for the remainder of the expedition.

Lucius got up at last, thrilled to be going and also a little tipsy, leaving the empty bottle on the tile next to his stool. "Those are nice."

"Really?" asked Narcissa caustically. "So when you said they were—and I quote—'perhaps the most hideous footwear I've ever seen, short of the trash your sister wears', you were joking?"

Caught in a conundrum, Lucius paused to reflect on his options. He vaguely recollected saying some things not particularly complimentary, but he was trying to use constructive criticism. Wasn't that what he was here for? "I don't recall saying precisely that…"

By now Narcissa had flounced out the door with Lucius at her heels. "I'm surprised you recall _anything_ after swilling a bottle of champagne like a common drunkard!"

"I'm not drunk. And besides—"

"Cissy!" A dark haired woman in a short red dress and spiky heels that looked dangerously high waylaid them only steps outside the store. "Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?"

Narcissa held up a foot for Bellatrix to take a gander at her new shoes. Bella oohed and aahed appropriately. "I bought three pairs, despite Lucius' dreadful comments and boorish behavior."

"I was _helping_!" He rolled his eyes, which made him a bit dizzy.

"Oh, I didn't notice you, blondie," sneered Bella, giving him the once over. "When did you take up shoe shopping?"

"When my wife's harlot of a sister stood her up," he sniped back.

Bella waved a hand back and forth in front of her face to ward off the fumes coming from her brother-in-law. "Do you always take him out when he's drunk, Cissy?"

"I'm not drunk!" he insisted, stumbling on a loose cobblestone and pitching forward into Bella.

She shoved him away. "Tell him to keep his hands off me, Cissy. I'm not a plaything."

Lucius burst out laughing. "That's a good one, Bella!"

Narcissa took his upper arm and pinched hard enough to bruise, making the man wince. "You're embarrassing all of us, Lucius. I'm going shopping with my sister now. Maybe you should go home."

Through his champagne haze, it took a great deal of concentration to focus on her. "I thought we were having a…tolerable time," he sulked. He couldn't bring himself to say a 'good time', for it would be a monumental lie she'd see through in a second, and it wasn't even that he wanted to shop with her; it was the simple fact she didn't want him there that irked him.

His wife kissed him and stepped back. "I'll see you at home, dear."

"Fine," he snipped peevishly, watching them walk away. Bella turned back to stick her tongue out, and if he weren't a Malfoy, he might have reciprocated. Instead he had to content himself with huffing away in indignation.

Since he was so close, he thought he may as well wander over to Diagon Alley. It was only the end of April, his father's birthday wasn't for ages, but it wouldn't hurt to check out Flourish and Blotts to see if any new books on healing or dark arts had come in. After that he'd make a stop at Borgin and Burkes; he'd asked them to reserve any out-of-the-ordinary poisons for his collection, which he had to keep hidden from Narcissa in the secret room under the drawing room floor. She was so squeamish about silly things like that, as if he intended to use them or something. Women!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Slytherin wins!" came over the loudspeaker, to thunderous applause and hoots from the Slytherin section, a chilly reception from the rest of the stands, for booing and bad sportsmanship were discouraged by the Headmaster.

Regulus navigated his broom down to the Quidditch pitch, snitch held aloft, grinning uncontrollably. His team lit down around him to pat him heartily on the back, along with most of Slytherin House pouring out onto the field.

The Gryffindor team, on the other hand, stormed off in a huff for their changing room. It was obviously unfair, the Slytherins had cheated! How they cheated remained a mystery, but since everyone else agreed that Gryffindor had a better team, the only logical conclusion was that the rascals had outwitted the referees and defrauded the Gryffindors of their win. With this in mind, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter crept over to the Slytherin changing room. No one would be there yet, they were busy celebrating with the rest of their obnoxious House, leaving the way wide open to exact a little revenge for their trickery.

"Remus, you stay out here as lookout," instructed James, stationing Lupin where he had a good view of the pitch. "If they show up, yell and we'll go out the other way into the corridor."

Remus nodded his understanding. It excited him to be a part of the mischief, while simultaneously worrying him. To be honest, he wasn't convinced the Slytherins had cheated, he saw the whole episode as a feeble excuse to pull a prank on the enemy. Still, they were his friends, and no one was getting hurt. He leaned against the building trying to look nonchalant but coming across as stiff and suspicious.

The other three slinked into the Slytherin changing room, surprised to find it nearly identical to the Gryffindor one. A row of lockers with benches in front lined one wall, sinks, toilets, and showers took up the remaining space.

James rather wished he could get out of his own sweaty Quidditch uniform about now, but first things first. "They don't even have a barrier to separate boys from girls," he scoffed, peering around.

"There aren't any girls on their team," piped up Peter.

"That's cuz they're not only a bunch of pureblood nutcases, they're sexist jerks, too," replied Sirius. He opened the first locker, pursing his lips as he pored over the contents. "From the looks of it, this is Rosier's locker."

"Guys, what're we gonna do?" asked James. "We didn't exactly have a bang-up plan when we came in here."

"Hmm, right," said Sirius, thinking hard. His eyes lit up. "I know! Let's jinx their underwear and socks with an itching spell!"

Having no better plan himself, and agreeing it would be fun to watch, James snickered and whipped out his wand. One by one the boys opened the lockers, repeating the words _promere jucken_ as flashes of orange light struck the clothing, temporarily coloring it, then dissipated into nothingness.

"We should shrink their shoes, too," giggled Peter. "Just a little so they hurt."

The other two youths gave him congratulatory praise for his atypical, impressive contribution to their deviltry and set to work on his suggestion. Outside, Remus glanced around warily, hoping no one noticed him. So far he hadn't seen anyone headed this way, which was perfect. An instant later he fell to the ground, the victim of a stunning spell from a bush far off to his left. The Slytherin Quidditch team moved forward slowly. Seeing nobody else, they approached the entrance.

"What's this dork doing here?" griped the captain, kicking aside his body to open the door. He readied his wand, as did the others.

The instant the door smacked open, James and Sirius whirled from the lockers, wands raised. Peter tried to squeeze into the locker in front of him. _Expelliarmus_ charms disarmed the three Marauders in the space of a second, leaving them helpless at the mercy of the entire Slytherin team, none of whom seemed happy to see them.

Regulus stomped forward, his features livid. "What are you doing in here? You have no business here!"

Sirius, cocky as ever, faced him. "Just came to applaud your team on the stolen win. I guess we'll be going now."

From behind Regulus, the burly keeper Evan Rosier came forward, exuding fury. "Like bloody hell you are! Look, guys, our lockers are open, they were up to something!" He grabbed Sirius by the front of his robes, lifting him up on his toes. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing, we're just nosy," interjected James. As much as he wanted to help his friend, attacking Rosier didn't seem the brightest thing to do with all the other teammates standing there.

One of the beaters snatched ahold of Peter's hair to drag him from the locker. "Okay, rat boy, 'fess up. What's going on?"

"N-n-nothing," Peter whimpered.

Rosier gave Sirius a hearty shake that rattled his teeth in his head. "I'm not stupid. Tell us what—"

"Not stupid?" laughed Sirius, as though this were the opportune time to mouth off. "You _are_ hilarious!"

Rosier hauled off and punched him in the mouth, dropping him to the floor. James ran at Rosier, headbutting him in the stomach. He doubled over, winded, and James made to strike him. The beater holding Peter kneed the small boy in the side, while one of the chasers made a grab for Potter, swung him around, and crashed his head into a locker, denting it badly; the nose guard of his glasses snapped and they fell to the floor, cracking one of the lenses. Potter fell beside them, his nose dripping blood.

With a cry of rage, a panting Sirius was on his feet trying to decide which Slytherin to attack. Most of the team stood around the walls shouting encouragement without actively participating, though no doubt existed they'd enter the fray if the odds swung to favor the Marauders. Sirius went for Rosier, clipping him on the ear with a hard roundhouse that sent the boy staggering onto a bench. The chaser who'd hurt Potter kicked Sirius in the ribs; the beater clubbed him over the head with his interlocked fists, driving him to the floor again.

Peter leapt onto Rosier's back and sank his teeth into the big boy's neck. Rosier howled and threw Peter head over heels across the room, where he crashed against a wall, slid down, and moaned piteously. Just then Remus entered the room, still jittery from the stunning spell, wand in hand. One of the watching boys disarmed him. Seeing the beating his friends were taking, he tried to escape out the way he'd come to go get help, but it was too late. Two more members of the team snatched his arms; a third pummeled him in the face and gut repeatedly.

James lurched over to punch the boy in the back of the head. Infuriated, he turned and hit James so hard he flew backward, tripped over the bench, slammed his head on a locker, and lay silent.

Enter Severus, Mulciber, and Nott. The three gawked around at the carnage, the four Marauders reduced to bloody heaps on the floor of the Slytherin locker room. For an awkward moment, everything was still.

"Sweet," said Nott, grinning.

"Brilliant job, mates," added Jack. "Too bad you didn't leave any for us."

Severus, his black eyes shining, said simply, "Justice at last."

Regulus moved away from the wall, his eyes drawn to his brother's prone form though he forced himself to look away. "Hey, Snape, what're you doing here?"

"We came to congratulate you on putting the Gryffindork scum in their place," Severus answered. "If we'd known about _this_, we'd have taken up a collection to show our gratitude." Taking in every detail, he committed the scene to memory. It would undoubtedly bring him joy for years to come. "Also, the girls of our House invite you to a party in your honor, so they ask that you clean up and hurry back to the dungeons."

Several of the boys hooted with delight. Slytherin wins were rare, what with the prejudice against them; no telling what the girls might have in store.

Regulus motioned around at the mess. "Get them out of here. Dump them outside the Gryffindork changing room. I'll clean up the blood in here."

With two strong young men on each marauder, they dragged the boys by their heels across the bumpy stone floor, out into the corridor, and down to the entrance of their own locker room. On the way, the Marauders' heads banged against the unforgiving stones numerous times, enough to cause quite painful bruising. Inside his own changing room, Regulus and the other boys easily _scourgified_ the bloodstains.

"Snape, they were up to something. They were poking around in our lockers, but they wouldn't tell us what they did. Can you check to see if they booby trapped them or something?" asked Regulus.

"Sure, Reg." Severus walked over to the first locker, waving his wand in a silent revealing spell. Twisting his face and shaking his head, he said, "How pathetic. The best they could come up with was an itching spell on your clothes." He waved the wand twice more to be sure. "And they shrank your shoes."

"That's it?" exclaimed Nott. "I could've done better than that!"

_A demented warthog could have done better_, Severus mused. No point in hurting Nott's feelings, it wasn't his fault he wasn't clever. "Mulciber, you and Reg help me reverse the spells. _Ontdoen jucken_ and _finite incantatem_ should do the trick. If not, try _grouwan skua_."

"What about me?" asked Nott.

"You can help Mulciber," said Severus with an apologetic shrug at Jack.

Regulus came over to the locker adjacent to Severus and lowered his voice to speak. "Can we talk about You-Know-Who in front of Mulciber?"

"I can hear you, Black, I'm not deaf," Jack responded more loudly than necessary, more from frustration than anything. "I know you're all Death Eaters. My dad is a Death Eater, too, and even though I hope he gets captured and sent to Azkaban, I wouldn't tell anybody about you guys."

"You can appreciate that I was under the impression you and Snape weren't friends any longer," said Regulus.

"In the past month we've decided to let bygones be bygones. As long as I respect the boundaries, there's no problem."

When Regulus looked to Snape for confirmation, Snape nodded briefly. "We've come to an understanding."

"Oh. Well, good. Anyway, Snape, I was wondering if you know why the dark lord hasn't called for me. I finally passed that blasted test, with L—a friend's help, and I thought sure he'd give me an assignment."

"No idea. When he has something up your alley, he'll let you know."

"He never called me," added Nott.

"You just joined," Regulus reminded him. "Did he make you take the test?"

At that moment the rest of the Slytherin team came tumbling back into the room, laughing and jeering about the stupid Gryffindorks. With scarcely a glance at the boys reversing the curses, they headed for the showers.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Late afternoon, the party in full swing, and Severus Snape had been summoned to Dumbledore's office. Again. He wanted to scream to high heaven how unfair it was that a dozen boys had been involved in the locker room brawl, and he _wasn't one of them_! Why was _he_ the one singled out every time something happened? Because those damned vindictive Marauders would name him, that's why, and the Headmaster would take their lies as gospel until proven false.

He went on up to Dumbledore's office and slumped into a chair to await the accusations. To his dismay, Dumbledore came around his desk, put a hand on his shoulder, and spoke gently.

"Severus, I've got bad news from home."

The boy's insides froze. His eyes widened, his breathing sped up.

"There's been a death in the family. I'm very sorry, son."

"My mum," Severus whispered, swallowing hard. "She's been ill."

Albus looked taken aback by the statement. "I didn't know that, Severus. But…it's not your mother."


	31. Chapter 31

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-One

As he did every morning before Lucius and Narcissa came down to breakfast, Abraxas sipped his coffee while reading the _Daily Prophet_. It was more out of habit than for news, actually, for he was well aware of how some reporters took outrageous liberties with their stories. Even so, it didn't hurt to keep abreast of events, and with this in mind his eyes scanned down the Obituary page, searching for familiar names. With You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters wreaking havoc on a regular basis, one never knew.

_Snape_. He passed the name before it fully registered, then backtracked with a sharp intake of breath, and let it out in a hiss of relief. Thank God, it wasn't Severus. _Tobias Snape_. Wasn't that Eileen's husband, Severus' father? Abraxas felt sick in the pit of his stomach. As if the poor family didn't suffer enough, though to hear Lucius tell it, the man had been a veritable monster. Surely Lucius didn't know the whole story, and Severus hadn't complained as far as Abraxas knew. The truth was likely somewhere in the middle.

On another, stranger note, why was a Muggle included in a wizard newspaper? One possibility sprang to mind: the Prince family wanted it known that Eileen was no longer yoked to the Muggle, she was free. It certainly was the Prince style, or lack thereof, he thought dryly.

"Good morning, Father. Anything interesting?" asked Lucius in his typical casual greeting.

"Severus' father died yesterday," said Abraxas quietly.

Lucius and Narcissa halted where they stood, shocked and appalled, neither expecting anything out of the ordinary, let alone _this_! At first neither one spoke; visions of Muggle torture and murder flew to Lucius' mind as he ransacked his memory for any reason the master might wish to punish Severus. At last he choked out, "What happened?"

"According to this brief article, an accident at the mill where he worked. That's all it says."

"Oh, poor Severus!" Narcissa blurted out, dropping into a chair. "And his mother and his sister and brother!"

"The man was hardly a saint," Lucius muttered.

"They still loved him!" Narcissa shot back.

"I know," he conceded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. The closeness of the death made him want to shield her, protect her all the more. The very thought of his own father dying made him shudder.

Abraxas folded the newspaper and laid it aside. "Will you be visiting him?"

"Yes, of course," answered Lucius. "I'll send him a message and go over this afternoon."

"When is the funeral?" asked Narcissa.

"In two days. Do you think he'd mind if I attend?"

Narcissa reached over to stroke Abraxas' hand. "I think he'd be pleased."

"He likes and respects you a lot, Father," added Lucius. In his mind he added, _probably__ more than his own dad_. It seemed almost surreal to think of it, how people naturally took what they had for granted, yet it could so easily, so viciously be ripped away in a heartbeat. Tobias hadn't been the ideal father, but Severus loved him…and according to his friend, Tobias loved Severus. That counted for something. "I think I'll go owl him now. If you'll excuse me."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Mrs. Snape, please accept my condolences. I understand this is a difficult time for you." Lucius moved away from the fireplace, carefully dusting the ash off his clothing, head swiveling about the cramped room. Aside from the lack of a dead body sprawled against one of the walls, it looked amazingly like his recollection.

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Malfoy," she answered absently, not looking up from her stiff-backed perch on the sofa. She rocked slowly back and forth.

"Call me Lucius. Is Severus here? I owled him…" He felt unbelievably awkward here, especially in light of the circumstances.

"In the back garden."

Lucius nodded a brief acknowledgement before turning his steps to the indicated area. In a corner of the tiny garden he found Severus sitting on an overturned bucket, eyes closed, leaning against the house. He approached cautiously, not sure what to expect. Severus was always so in control of himself, so unemotional; because of his own ineptitude with emotional intimacy, Lucius sincerely hoped the boy hadn't deteriorated into a wreck.

"What do you want?" said Severus.

It took Lucius a moment to notice he hadn't even opened his eyes. "I want to say I'm sorry for your loss, Severus."

The young man's eyes snapped open and he sat up rigidly. "I thought you were Julius." With a lurch he got to his feet, his piercing look making Lucius downright uncomfortable, and he shifted unconsciously.

"Severus, I don't mean to encroach upon your mourning. I thought it appropriate to express my sympathy."

Dispassionately Severus replied, "For what? He was only a Muggle. Don't they all deserve to die?"

Like a glass of icy water in his face the words struck Lucius hard. How often had he said those very words, or something quite similar, right in front of Severus? Muggles were inferior, that was a pure fact, but did he have to bring it up to the boy whose own father was one of them? Death Eater or not, a wave of hot shame overtook him. How incredibly tactless, how incredibly cruel he felt!

"I'm sorry for saying that."

"Why? It's what you believe." The hawklike stare only intensified with the rage boiling behind it.

"No. I mean—you're different, your family is different!"

There was an odd, choking sound comprising a hollow laugh. "Is that so? What makes me—or us—so special?" Severus sneered.

"You're my friend, that's what," Lucius answered softly. "I apologize for my cutting, thoughtless remarks. I never intended to hurt you."

"You only intended to denigrate the man who sired me, who spent his life working in a hellhole to support me and my family, who died in that hellhole trying to earn enough money to bury my mother when her time comes!" Snape spun away, his forearm rising to his eyes, his teeth clenched so tightly it made his jaw ache. With a single, rough swipe of his sleeve he fiercely wiped at the unbidden tears.

"Only because he was bad to you, Severus!" Lucius pleaded, edging forward until he was close enough to place a hand on Severus' shoulder. "I didn't—"

"DON'T touch me!" Severus snarled, jerking away as he whirled back around to face him. "You said what you came to say, now get out."

"No."

It was so unexpected Severus actually drew back in surprise. "This is my property, Lucius—"

"I know you're angry, and for good reason. When my sister was murdered, I was furious, too. I wanted to kill all Muggles, and I made no bones of it. Yes, I've said callous things, I wasn't as supportive as I should've been, but I didn't cause this to happen. I'm not happy about it, I won't be blamed for it, and I won't let you destroy our friendship over it!" Lucius lifted his chin just a smidge, his expression defiant.

"You did your proper Malfoy duty by coming here, you don't need to waste any more time on the halfbreed. I'm sure you'll get over losing me quickly enough," retorted Severus coldly. "No doubt you've got dozens of pureblood cronies to wile away your time with."

"As a matter of fact, I don't," Lucius snapped back. "In case you hadn't noticed—which I doubt, since I've never seen anyone so ridiculously anal in their observations—I don't make friends easily. There are hundreds of people who want to be close for my wealth, but I don't need their bullshit!"

"Anal?" echoed Severus, as if he hadn't heard anything else.

"Meticulous, rigid, and compulsive," Lucius growled.

"I know what it means," sneered the younger man. "And I happen to think of myself as thorough, disciplined, and focused."

"Well, I happen to think of myself as the King of England, but surprise, surprise—I'm not!" Lucius challenged, staring him down. The absurdity of it struck him and he began to chuckle, then to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You—me—I don't know." The laughter subsided and suddenly he was solemn again. "Damn it, Severus, you're my best friend, you know you are. I'm sorry I didn't act more like it, and I really am sorry about your father. If you feel the need to lash out at me, go ahead."

Severus let out an exasperated breath. He wasn't angry at Lucius, per se, he was angry at the world, at the unfairness of it all. True, his pal's comments about Muggles used to hurt, but he'd learned to tune them out. They'd come rushing back to haunt him upon his father's death, which in itself had triggered an evasive, unclear fury directed at no one in particular and everyone in general. He wanted to hit someone, to alleviate the pain by inflicting it on others; all he needed was a reason, even a flimsy one, but a kind invitation didn't quite qualify.

Scowling, he regarded Malfoy at length before finally retorting, "It's hardly satisfying if I have your permission."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You're a right pain in the arse, you know that?"

"It_is_ one of my strengths," Severus agreed, his scowl morphing into a smug smile. "It keeps me going."

"How are your mother and the kids doing?"

Severus shrugged as he slid down the wall onto his bucket, cradling his chin in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. "Not well. Dad had finally stopped drinking right before this school year started, he was being pretty good to the twins. They were happy. Mum was a lot happier than I ever remember."

"And you were a lot happier, too," Lucius observed quietly.

In a slightly defensive, bitter tone Severus remarked, "It's only natural. But we should've known it couldn't last. Nothing good ever lasts."

"Severus, if you—" Lucius stopped himself before making the blunder of offering his friend money. All he needed was to wound his pride in order to make the insult complete. "If you need anything, I'd like to help."

"I appreciate that," he responded noncommittally. "I should probably go in now. Thanks for coming."

Lucius raised an eyebrow in consternation. He was being _dismissed_! If it weren't for the trying circumstances, he'd be offended. "I'll see you in a couple of days, then. I mean it, if you need anything, send an owl. I'll take it as a personal affront if I find out you disregarded my overture."

"Heaven forbid I should upset Lucius Malfoy," drawled Severus, smirking.

"Jackass," Lucius muttered under his breath. He held out his hand, which Severus took in a somber, unhurried handshake. It seemed to Lucius he ought to offer a more solid gesture along the lines of an embrace, yet…well, he wasn't exactly the demonstrative type, except with Narcissa. It would be too…weird. "Take care."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As per the norm, the family sat in the front pew of the church for the funeral service. The twins flanked their mother, who gripped their hands so tightly it was a tossup to determine whether their pain or their sorrow kept them weeping. Severus took his seat on the aisle next to Justina, one arm stretched out around the girl and extending to their mother. Behind them Eileen's parents had taken up position, while across the aisle Tobias' parents seated themselves.

Severus glimpsed over at them several times during the service. It was apparent from physical characteristics that they were Tobias' parents; Tobias had inherited his father's black hair and sallow skin, his mother's hooked nose and black eyes. Aside from resemblance, Severus wouldn't have known them from Adam. He'd not seen them for ten years, prior to the twins' birth, when Tobias had ordered them out of his house. In his estimation, he hadn't missed anything. What he did recall of their infrequent visits was arguing, tension, never ending vitriol directed at Tobias, Eileen, and Severus, in that order. In a nutshell, they were wretched, horrid people, and it astonished him that Tobias had grown up as well as he had with their influence hanging over him like a putrid veil. In fact, he thought it a small wonder his father hadn't become an ax murderer, starting with his parents!

He felt a hand on his shoulder and craned his neck around to see Glenna behind him, leaning up to whisper a greeting. A wave of emotion rushed over him, which he thrust down into the middle of his gut. He smiled sadly at her, took her hand, and pulled her up to sit with him, scooting over and forcing the others to do so as well.

When at last it was over, they all got up to go. The burial was to take place later; right now the reception was scheduled at the Prince house where there was more room. Severus looked back through the sparsely populated church to see Lucius, Narcissa, and Abraxas off by themselves looking ill at ease among the Muggles. He motioned for them to come forward, leaving Glenna with his family as he went to meet them.

"Thank you for coming, it means a lot," he said seriously.

Narcissa, noting with distaste the awful Muggle suit he wore, attempted a smile at the poor boy. Instead she started to cry and jumped forward to hug him. "Severus, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do."

Severus patted her back gently with a sidelong glance at Lucius, who didn't appear the least bit upset about his wife clinging to his best friend. After the little incident in the ballroom, Severus had been very careful to keep his distance. "I'm glad you're here. Won't you all come to the gathering at my grandparents' house?"

"We wouldn't miss it," said Lucius, dodging an evil glare from Abraxas, who took over where Narcissa had left off by giving the boy a cursory hug and quiet words of encouragement.

When Severus returned to his family, Abraxas muttered, "Nice going, son. Now I'm obligated to go to Prince Manor."

"So?" said Lucius, immediately before remembering how his father had once been engaged to Eileen. And as the engagement had been broken by him to marry another woman, _awkward_ scarcely described how he must feel. "Oh, sorry."

The three scouted about the church in search of a secluded place from which to Disapparate home, from where they'd later go on to the Prince home. They slipped into the confessional one at a time and vanished. Severus noted them go, and then his eyes fell on a solitary figure at the very back of the church, hunkered down. A scarf covered her head and trailed down to hide her face, though bits of red hair poked out beneath the covering.

"Who's that?" asked Glenna, all at once standing beside him, sliding her hand into his.

"I don't know," he said with an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I think it's Lily."

The mention of the name caused Glenna to grind her teeth in a fit of wrath. Couldn't that two-faced slut leave them alone even now? What was she playing at? "Ignore her, Severus."

"I can't. She came to the funeral, I have to acknowledge her." He let go of Glenna's hand to walk the length of the building. Seeing him approach, the woman stood up, making no attempt to leave. The closer he came, the more sure he was; when she raised her eyes to his, he knew. "Lily. May I ask why you're here?"

"Severus, he was your dad. How could I _not_ come?"

For a long moment Snape said nothing. Why did she continue to do this to him, to throw herself in his path after making certain he understood they could never truly be friends or anything else? Did she enjoy tormenting him? Was she so wrapped up in her own self-importance that she didn't even realize the torture she put him through? Every time he thought he'd built the wall around him thick enough, she managed to breach it with her intrusiveness. Every time he thought he'd relegated his childish, obsessive love for Lily to the trashbin where it belonged, she tried to revive it by showing up in his life again. It was as infuriating as it was heartbreaking, and he hated her for it.

"When we were friends, I would've expected your presence," he murmured at the floor. "We're no longer friends, by your choice. We're no longer _anything_. Nevertheless, thank you for coming. It was a kind gesture."

"Severus, if I can do anything…" she said, flipping her hair back and causing the scarf to fall onto the back of the pew.

"You've done enough." Before she could respond and completely demolish his composure, he whirled and hurried up the aisle to his girlfriend, whose malevolent glare at Lily was almost palpable.

"Come on, Glenna, it's time to go to my grandparents' house."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

No one had killed anybody so far. Sadly, that was the best thing Severus could say about the gathering. His father's Muggle friends and co-workers from the mill were the only ones oblivious to the chokingly thick tension permeating the place, tension that increased tenfold when the Malfoys showed up half an hour into the wake, taking the attention off the Snape grandparents, who'd complained incessantly about everything under the sun from the minute they arrived.

Mr. Prince, a trim, gray haired gentleman of sixty-five, took his daughter aside to mutter angrily, "Why did you tell those Muggles how to get here? You know I don't want them in my house!"

"Father, it's only for one day. You'll never have to see them again," Eileen said dully, her entire demeanor listless.

"And what is _he_ doing here?" demanded the man, jutting his chin toward the new Malfoy arrivals.

Eileen blinked repeatedly, stunned. She'd seen the Malfoys briefly at the funeral, assuming them to be there for Severus. "I don't know, I guess Severus invited them. Please don't make a scene, Father."

"Why shouldn't he make a scene?" Mrs. Prince asked haughtily. "That man ran out on my only child and ruined her life!"

"Mother, he didn't ruin my life! I love my family, I'm not sorry—"

"Oh, pshaw!" the woman answered. "You'd have been a Malfoy, rich, you'd have everything instead of living in that shack. He should be horsewhipped."

"In case you forgot, he saved Severus' life last summer, Mother! I know you love _him_." That hushed the woman long enough for Eileen to warn, "I'm going to greet them. Don't make a scene!" With a final fierce glower, she made her way over to Abraxas. "How are you, Abraxas?"

"Fine, Eileen. I should be the one inquiring the same of you."

She responded with a tight, forced smile. "Things have been better."

"If it's not too prying, may I ask if you had any form of insurance on your husband?" Ever practical, Abraxas dove right into the thick of it. "I understand Muggles use a system of this sort in case of accidents."

Eileen shook her head. "We couldn't afford it. But the accident was caused by malfunctioning equipment at his job, and the company offered to pay a settlement, only now they're saying they won't." Helpless tears shot to her eyes and flooded down her cheeks, making her feel like an utter baby. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He came in close to put an arm around her, letting her cry on his chest. From over by the buffet table, he saw Lucius and Narcissa watching, prompting him to avert his eyes. "I know what it's like to lose a spouse, Eileen. It's one of the hardest things in the world to endure."

"I shouldn't be bothering you, Abraxas."

"It's no bother." He waited a few seconds, debating whether to say what he'd intended to say. "Don't be offended, Eileen, but I know money has been tight for you and that your parents aren't wealthy. I'd like to offer you a sum to help you get by—for the children's sakes." Sensing her gearing up for a refusal, he pressed his fingers to her lips. "Don't say no, at least think about it."

"I'll think about it," she said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief he provided her, then blowing her nose. "You must care a lot for Severus, Abraxas. First you saved his life, now you want to help us."

"I do care," he answered curtly, disliking the exposure of his sentiments. "He's a very bright and talented wizard."

"Yes, he is," she agreed with a genuine, proud smile.

A shrill voice carried across the room, cutting into their conversation. "If my son'd had a decent job, this never would've happened. I told him long ago what to do, he never listened. Of course, he was always a clumsy—"

"Shut up!" thundered Severus, stalking straight for Mrs. Snape. All conversation stopped, every eye turned his way. "I'm sick and tired of hearing how useless my father was! He was your son, but you never did anything except find fault with him! It's no wonder he ordered you to leave our family alone—you never let up on him when he was alive, and you can't even let him rest in peace!"

Mr. Snape came up beside his wife. "Obviously he didn't raise his whelp proper, or you'd mind your mouth."

"Really, Severus, you ungrateful brat," his grandmother seethed. "Your mother has no class, either, lettin' you behave like this."

His hands balling into fists, his black eyes boring into the two, Severus said in an odd, detached clip, "You know what? You're an insane bitch and your husband is a brutal git. You made my father's life miserable, and you're not going to do the same to my family. You're poison and we don't want you around. If you ever come near my mother or sister or brother, I'll kill you. Both of you leave."

They stared at him, horrorstruck, then turned and hightailed it out. Once when he'd been drunk, Tobias mentioned the boy was one of _them_, and though they didn't know quite what it meant, they were assured it had to be very bad. Here was the proof—he was issuing death threats. The Lord only knew how many he may have murdered to date. They were well rid of the lot of them.

Severus scanned the thin crowd gaping at him, tossed his hair back from his face, and said calmly, "Is there some problem?"

The guests shrugged and shook their heads, though every conversation invariably buzzed with the recent episode. Worming their way through a click of people, Justina and Julius broke through to run to Severus, clasping him tightly around the waist. The Snape grandparents frightened them, and their hero brother had chased them away. Severus dropped his arms protectively around them.

Julius looked up at his brother to ask, "Would you really kill them, Severus?"

_Without hesitation_, he thought. Anyone who threatened his family would suffer his wrath, but the kids didn't need to know that. Not yet, anyway. When they got older they'd understand. "It's just something grown-ups say when they love their families, Julius. _They_ know what I meant."

"Indeed they do," drawled Lucius, sauntering up beside him, smirking in the well-perfected Malfoy way. "We all do." The look he sent Severus' way held more than understanding, it held approval, and for some indefinable reason that approval was more important to Severus than he cared to admit.


	32. Chapter 32

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Two

He knew he couldn't avoid them forever. He was in their house, after all, and an unwelcome guest at that. He'd already talked to Eileen, Severus, and even the twins. May as well suck it up, go over, and endure their acrimony. Abraxas hadn't felt so much like a goofy teenager in decades, not since—well, not since he'd _been_ a teenager. Taking a deep breath, he strolled over to the Prince couple, looking every bit the composed Malfoy he habitually projected.

"Mr. Prince, Mrs. Prince, you've put on a lovely reception."

"Nothing compared to what a Malfoy would do, I'm sure," intoned the other man dryly.

"How kind of you to stoop to praising us," his wife added snidely.

Abraxas forced his lips into a tight smile. "I meant no affront, it was merely an observation. I harbor no ill will toward your family."

"Is that why you dumped Eileen, shaming her and us?" asked Mrs. Prince. "Because I'd say that took a good bit of spite."

"I fell in love with my wife-to-be. Eileen was only a child, I had no feelings for her," Abraxas began, dreading going through this conversation again. "You've heard this story from me and from my parents, why do you insist on carping on this thirty years after the fact?"

"Carping? Are we carping?" inquired Mrs. Prince indignantly to her husband.

The older man shook his head as he patted her hand. "Now, dear, we'd never do such a thing. Eileen requested that we not cause a scene. If Malfoy here can't understand obligation, it's really too late to try to teach him."

"Quite right, love," Mrs. Prince agreed.

For the hundredth time since breaking his betrothal, Abraxas considered how lucky he'd been not only to gain his beloved wife, but to avoid having the Princes for in-laws. Their insulting, sarcastic attitude would have been almost as hard to deal with as his own father's heartlessness. He was about to take his leave when he spied Narcissa making a beeline for him.

_Go back! Save yourself! _ his mind screamed. Too late.

"Mr. and Mrs. Prince, how nice to finally meet you," Narcissa smiled pleasantly, extending a hand to each of them. "My mother has spoken highly of you."

"Druella Rosier, wasn't it?" Mr. Prince queried. "Yes, a charming woman. The Rosiers are good, pureblood stock."

"As are the Blacks," interjected his wife.

_Oh, God, no! They wouldn't dare!_ Abraxas waited for the shoe to drop. In his experience, the Princes rarely complimented anyone related to him without nullifying it with something vile, as though they received perverse satisfaction from 'telling the truth'. He took hold of Narcissa's hand. "We should go, it's getting late."

"Don't rush off, dearie," Mrs. Prince cooed to the girl. "It's not as if you're in a hurry to mix with the Muggles." She and her husband laughed; Narcissa looked bewildered.

"Narcissa, aren't you related to Araminta Meliflua?" inquired Mr. Prince in a casually curious manner. Much too casual.

"Araminta Meliflua?" she repeated. That name sounded familiar.

"Yes, yes. A few years back she tried to pass a bill in the Ministry to make Muggle hunting legal."

Ah, yes, now she remembered. "I can't say I'm directly related. My uncle's wife, who also happens to be his cousin, has a cousin by that name. I've never met her."

Mrs. Prince smiled sweetly…saccharin sweet. "Surely you share her sentiments, all the Blacks feel the same."

"Honestly, Mrs. Prince, I think it's repugnant. Just because they're only Muggles doesn't make them animals to be hunted."

"Did I say 'all the Blacks'? I forgot to make exception for the blood traitors."

Enough was enough. Abraxas stepped in front of Narcissa, repulsed by the conversation initiated solely to upset the girl, and only because she happened to be Abraxas' daughter-in-law. As much as he'd love to shut them up with the fact that their own daughter was a blood traitor, now wasn't the time or place. Besides, he had more class than that.

"As worthy as the goal of eliminating Muggles may be, Malfoys steer clear of such despicable displays. Regardless of the sentiments of the Blacks, Narcissa is of impeccable character, and she is also a Malfoy now. Narcissa, would you go fetch Lucius, please? Tell him it's time to go."

Without protest she slipped away. Abraxas gave a light nod to the couple. "Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said smoothly, then followed Narcissa over to Lucius.

"What's their problem, Abraxas?" Narcissa asked, looking hurt.

"They hate me," he said simply. "By extension, anyone related to me is on their black list. No pun intended," he added smiling. "Shall we go?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

James let go the snitch and captured it for the thirty-eighth time in a row. "Come on, guys, think! We can't let them get away with beating us up."

Peter, who'd tried to stay out of the conversation up to now, hunkered down under the covers of his bed. "Count me out. They're dangerous."

"They started it!"

"Technically, we did," said Remus. "We had no business in their changing room, and you _did_ hex their stuff."

"Only because they cheated," Potter fumed.

"I don't think they did," Remus admitted, to the consternation of every boy in the room. "Why is it so hard to believe they played a good game?"

"Well—because they're _Slytherins_," sputtered James. "Right, Sirius?"

"Yeah, whatever," he answered distractedly. He turned back to the window to gaze into the night.

Remus pulled the blanket over himself. "I don't want any part of this feud, either. It's bad enough we've had one going with Snape all these years, but a whole bunch of them at once is really asking for trouble."

As if remembering something, James tilted his head back and grinned. "Yeah, we need to get Snivellus and Mulciber, too. They were there."

"They came in after it was over," countered Remus.

"Well, Mulciber did that twisty thing to my body and I never got revenge for that—"

"Mulciber got suspended for it," Lupin reminded him.

"—and as for Snivellus, do we need a reason?"

Remus' brows dipped in a sudden fit of anger, something he rarely displayed in front of the gang. "His dad just died, James! Leave him be!"

From the window, still staring at something only he could fathom, Sirius remarked, "Yeah, James, give him a break."

The snitch in James' fist squeaked under the weight of his appalled squeeze. Had he heard what he thought he had? "Since when do you care about family, Sirius?"

"Since I don't have any," retorted his friend. He spun away from the window, stomped over to the door, and slammed it as he left.

The other three, shocked at his behavior, stared after him. Finally James grumped, "What was _that_ about?"

"Didn't you hear the Slytherins today?" asked Remus fruitlessly. Of course he didn't, why would he listen to anything outside his own myopic view of the world? "They made a big to-do about congratulating Regulus on his birthday. He's seventeen today, and even if Sirius won't acknowledge it, he still loves his brother."

"I suppose so," James conceded. "They used to be really close before he ran away from home. And even after that for a while."

"He must miss him. I have an idea, though I don't know what you'll think of it. Instead of plotting revenge, why don't you think of a way to get them back together?" said Lupin.

Silence. After a minute or so of pondering, James shrugged. "I don't have a clue how. Regulus as good as told him to butt out of his life and leave him alone."

"He was probably mad. He's had time to cool off. Wouldn't it be so much more satisfying to make Sirius happy rather than get your face beat in again?" asked Remus, smiling hopefully.

James let out an unexpected laugh, rubbing his head where it had collided with a locker. "It would, at that. Maybe you can pitch in some ideas."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Glenna, where are you going?" With a quizzical look Severus tugged on her hand to draw her along with him toward the dungeons.

"I forgot, Severus. I was supposed to meet with the Divinations instructor." She gave a rueful pout. "I'll be back to the House soon."

"Hurry," he said, his eyes tracing the curves of her face. He'd offer to walk her over, but Divinations disgusted him. It was a pseudo-science if ever there was one, and he frankly had no time to stand around gawking into crystal balls while Glenna discussed her business with the professor. If she asked him to go, he would…he hoped she wouldn't ask.

Glenna kissed him and scurried off. Once she'd turned a corner out of his sight, she kicked up the pace right past the Divinations classroom, out into the courtyard, and down toward the lake. Already a multitude of students lounged on the grassy banks or waded in a shallow area, enjoying the unseasonably warm April evening, but Glenna had her eyes fixed on only one person. There, propped against a tree, scouting the students, was her target.

She slowed to a stroll to catch her breath, turning her head to ascertain they were alone, then sauntered over. She had no time to lose, they wouldn't be alone for long. "So, Evans, where's lover boy?"

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Why are you following me? What do you want?"

"The question is, what do _you_ want?" responded Glenna, poking the other in the chest with a hard finger.

Lily winced and pulled back. "Stop jabbing me! I should take off points—"

"Good Lord, that gets old!" exclaimed Glenna. "If things don't go Lily's way, she'll take off points."

"Leave me alone, Glenna. I don't want any trouble."

"Is that so? Then why did you show up at Severus' father's funeral? He didn't want you there, he doesn't care about you anymore!" Her voice rose to an angry shout. "Why can't you quit playing your childish games and leave him be?"

Lily drew herself up haughtily, her demeanor one of disbelief with contempt curling her lip in a poor imitation of a Slytherin sneer. "I was friends with Sev long before he even knew who you were. Why should I act otherwise to please you?"

"For one thing, _Evans_, he doesn't like being called 'Sev'; he loathes it, in fact. For another, you blew your chance with him when you refused to forgive him for that mudblood crack. Yeah, I know about that," seethed the Slytherin, enjoying the astonished expression on Lily's face. "He's done fawning after you, so get over it! If you want to be worshipped, let the Potter puke do it, but leave Severus out of it!"

"When did you become his bodyguard?" queried Lily sardonically.

Glenna stepped in with her fist balled. "Right now. You're a selfish, self-centered little bitch who can't bear the thought of Severus having a life without you, even though you pretend not to want him."

"I _don't_ want him! I'm happy with James."

"Whatever." Glenna rolled her eyes. "Actions speak louder than words, and it seems to me every time I turn around, there you are gawking at him or showing up where he is. Get it through your head, Evans, he doesn't love you!"

"Yes, he does!" Lily shrilled. A hand flew to cover her gaping mouth, while her saucer-sized eyes stared at Glenna in startled horror. Where had _that_ come from? She loved James, she didn't think of Severus like that…not anymore.

For her part, Glenna glared back in undisguised hatred. So she'd been right the whole time, the Evans bitch held out hope for stringing Severus along while having her fun with Potter. Two-faced whore. "No, he doesn't," she repeated icily.

Lily didn't even attempt to answer. She bolted away in the direction of the school, oblivious to the people she passed, running at full speed as tears coursed down her cheeks. In the first hallway she came to, she took refuge in a broom closet where she and James frequently hid for romantic interludes. For a good while she cried, until at last she felt herself regaining control. Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, she sat back on her rump, leaning against the wall.

This couldn't be happening. She didn't love Severus, she didn't! They'd been friends for years, she'd loved him as a friend and he hurt her. Injuries couldn't be forgiven, that only led to people taking advantage. That's what Petunia always said, and she never let anyone push _her_ around. And Severus hung around with evil people now, he couldn't be trusted anyway.

So what exactly was it that upset her so? That she might still hold a tiny bit of feeling for Severus…or that he might NOT have any feelings for her? When she examined it calmly in a detached manner, she had to admit it was the latter. For so many years she'd counted on his adoration to boost her esteem. She shuddered to think Glenna-the-horrid-Slytherin was right, she wanted Severus to follow after her like a puppy, and when he didn't, it bothered her. But yet, she saw it in his eyes every time they spoke, the struggle within him to fight her charms.

_Charm_. Lily's stomach did a flip and she thought she might be sick. It had been so long ago, she'd forgotten it ever happened…until now. What had she done?

_First Year Potions Lab_

_Lily had stayed after class as she often did, so Professor Slughorn hadn't protested. He'd left her to brew her silly little potion, with the admonition to clean up when she finished._

_She'd found a spell in one of the other girl's __Witches Weekly__ magazine, but everyone knew such things were rubbish, except perhaps eleven-year-old Muggleborns. As closely as she could she'd followed directions, only she'd been unable to find the lichen slime, so she'd substituted a leaf-like portion of the lichen. By the time it was complete, Severus had come to find out what was holding her up._

_"Lily, it's time for supper."_

_"Come here, Sev. I want you to try this," she said, holding up a spoonful of the nasty mixture._

_The boy wrinkled his nose. "I don't think so. We're not to taste potions without the teacher's permission."_

_"But he let me make it!" Lily protested. "Don't you trust me?"_

_"Sure, I do." He was still resistant._

_"Do you love me, Sev?"  
_

_"Course I do, Lily. What's that got to do with anything?" He sounded annoyed._

_"I want you to love me forever. This potion will make sure," she wheedled._

_"That's stupid. Why wouldn't I love you forever anyway?"  
_

_"Sev," she pouted, sticking out her lower lip._

_The boy made a face, took the spoon, and gulped the brew. Although he looked like he felt ill, he tried to smile. "There. Happy?"_

_Lily smiled and hugged him around the neck._

"Oh, my God," she moaned. "I made him drink a love potion."

Amid the guilt swirling in her mind, she tried to rationalize. He didn't_ have_ to drink it, he chose to, although she'd cajoled him into it. But it wasn't perfect, she'd cheated on an ingredient, so maybe it didn't even work! Or maybe it worked, but not as efficiently as it should, which was how Severus was able to resist the effects to the degree he did.

"Oh, my God," she groaned again. Severus hadn't taken it seriously at the time, she doubted he even remembered the whole incident. Yet what if she'd succeeded in latching his affections to her in spite of his will? What kind of person did that make her? She couldn't possibly tell Professor Slughorn what she'd done in hopes he knew a cure. He'd probably expel her! And what if she was wrong, the potion was harmless… not to mention as far as she'd ever heard, love potions had no cures, although some were only temporary. Except hers had claimed to be a 'forever' potion. There was no hope in such a case.

"Lily?" The door opened and James popped his head in. "Why are you hiding in here?"

"Oh, James!" She lurched forward, throwing herself into his arms. "I had another argument with Glenna, I just needed to be alone."

"Are you okay? You seem pretty shaken up."

"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" she said, clinging tighter to him. She must never let James find out what she'd done, he'd hate her. "Will you take me back to the common room? I think I need to rest."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Another report came in through the chute connected to his secretary's desk. Lucius plucked it up, read it over, and tossed it back onto his desk. He hated his job, hated it more than he ever could have imagined it was possible to hate a job.

At the outset his promotion from first tier flunky had been exciting, even if it _was_ to work in the Department of Underage Magic. Since then he'd learned his lesson. This position, aside from being brain-numbingly tedious, seemed blatantly pointless. The parchment in front of him, for example—a child in a pureblood home was accused of levitating his sister. Big ass deal! First off, children in such circumstances were only doing what witches and wizards were _designed_ to do; why should they be punished for it? That was a parent's responsibility, not the duty of the Ministry of Magic, yet he would have to either send a letter requesting information, or make a home visit. On days when he was particularly bored, he chose the visitation option. Rarely did he end up writing a report on a pureblood, his excuse being there was no definitive proof of the perpetrator.

Mudbloods were much easier to deal with, and truth be told Lucius rather enjoyed writing them up, even making occasional visits to the Muggle homes for intimidation purposes, being careful not to touch the creatures, naturally. Ah, how he relished the expressions on their repugnant faces when he showed up at their shacks to present them with warnings or admonitions from the Ministry! Perhaps this job wasn't all bad.

Lucius reached into the breast pocket of his robe and withdrew the tiny figurine Narcissa had given him, gently placing it on the tabletop, and ordered it to perform. The doll bowed and winked at him, smiling coyly, then it began a one-woman ballet show. Lucius lowered his little finger down where the doll could reach it; she stretched one arm over her head, grasped the tip of his finger in her hand, and spun around and around with the aid of his lightly twirling finger to keep her going. He smiled as he watched her perfect, miniature form.

The door opened and Lucius snatched up the figure to put her away, but upon seeing his father he set her back down again. "Father, you could knock." The doll curtsied and blew him a kiss.

Abraxas glanced at the doll and rolled his eyes. "So this is how you spend your days at work?" The door closed behind him.

"Not always," responded Lucius defensively.

"I love you, Lucius," piped up the figure in Narcissa's voice.

"I love you, too," he said automatically, then blushed to the roots of his hair, for his immediate response made it clear this wasn't the first time he'd answered the doll in this way.

Abraxas shook his head, though he couldn't help smiling. "Really, son, aren't you afraid Narcissa might get jealous?" At his own cleverness, he let out a belly laugh.

"At the risk of sounding rude, Father, why are you here?" He shut down the figure and returned her to his pocket, not caring for a repeat of the extremely embarrassing 'lusty' comment she'd come out with once in front of Abraxas.

"I've come to get you for an errand we need to run."

"I'm not a house elf," Lucius said, not budging.

Ostensibly bemused, his father cocked his head slightly, raising his eyebrows a touch. "I must have misunderstood. I told my son to get his lazy arse up and come with me, and I _thought_ he replied in a sassy tone that would get his mouth slapped."

"Tsk." Lucius shoved back his chair and got up. "I'm up, see?"

"Still cheeky, though," countered Abraxas, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm up, _sir_," Lucius amended, sincerely not wishing to get on the man's bad side. The fact that he was a grown man himself provided no deterrent against Abraxas' temper if it flared. "Where are we going?"

"To the Muggle factory where Severus' father died."


	33. Chapter 33

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Three

Lucius tugged down the sleeves of his dark gray Muggle suit and adjusted his green tie for the umpteenth time. _Good Lord, how do they wear these grotesque things without strangling?_ Then again, if he were lucky maybe they'd all strangle themselves and he'd be rid of them! He felt like a clown dressed for party entertainment. A glance over at his father revealed that Abraxas shared similar reservations about his own hideous Muggle outfit.

"Father, must we wear these things?"

"Yes, son, we must. They won't believe we're who we claim to be if we dress normally, and we don't want to draw undue attention," Abraxas said calmly. In one smooth wave his face went blank. "Wipe those nasty looks off your face, stand up straight, and act the part."

"I am standing up straight," grumbled the young man, though he effortlessly cleared all expression from his visage.

"I thought I told you to tie your hair back. Most Muggle professionals wear short hair."

_I'm not a Muggle_, Lucius retorted inwardly. With a wave of his wand his locks secured themselves in a cord at the base of his neck; another wave charmed the hair to make it appear short and neat. "Am I Muggle enough?" he asked sarcastically. "Or shall I charm myself ape arms?"

"Keep it up, Lucius," warned Abraxas. He took hold of his son's sleeve and they Disapparated. Moments later they appeared outside a dusty, dirty mill, evidently at the back side. No one was about.

They walked around the building picking their way over litter and filth, repulsed and disgusted by the tall stacks spewing black smoke into the air. When they reached a door on the side, they found it locked. A simple _alohomora_ gained them entrance into a dim corridor.

"Now what?" inquired Lucius.

"The easiest thing to do would be to find a worker to point us to the main office. Barring that, we wander around until we find it."

Together they treaded down the hallway, whose openings boasted restrooms and some sort of 'lounge' area, but no one in sight. According to the signs, one passage led to the milling and packing area, another to shipping. They opted for the narrow unmarked corridor. As luck would have it, it led them straight to an open office marked 'Manager Westley'; it seemed a rather cramped, unassuming space for one owning such a facility.

A portly man with a bald crown looked up from his desk. "How didja get in 'ere?"

"Through the door," said Abraxas with a friendly grin. "My name is Malfoy, counselor for Eileen Snape. As you know, her husband was recently killed here. Are you the one responsible for this travesty whereby benefits due Mrs. Snape have been revoked?"

"Huh?" grunted the other.

Lucius clenched his jaw at the man's idiocy. "Did you deny Mrs. Snape the money she was owed?"

"Nah, that weren't me. The owner done that."

"And where might we find this owner?" asked Abraxas.

"Name's Jeremy Sill. I got the address somewhere," answered the man, rummaging through an untidy pile of papers on the desk. He then took to opening each drawer in turn to rifle through the contents, spilling things haphazardly onto the floor while Abraxas and Lucius exchanged annoyed looks. At last he triumphantly held up a business card. "Got it!"

Abraxas reached for the card, read the address, and handed it to Lucius, who did the same. "Is he there now?"

"Sure, prob'ly."

Lucius tossed the card onto the messy stack on the desk. "Thank you."

He and Abraxas left the office, rounded the corner, and Disapparated. When they reappeared this time, the building they landed behind was in the middle of London; in the alley, they encountered two very frightened bums gaping at them. Wands flashed out of pockets and both vagrants were summarily _obliviated_.

"Son, we really should be more careful where we land next time," Abraxas mentioned casually. "There might have been a flock of them."

Lucius shuddered at the thought. "Hopefully there won't be a next time."

As before, they were forced to round the building. They checked the address and ascended the stairs. Unfamiliar with the strange paper currency notes or with the Muggle custom of tipping, but conscious of the fact that money quite literally opens doors, Lucius slipped the doorman a fifty pound note as they entered, causing the man's eyes to widen; he hastily jerked the door wide for them to enter. He silently thanked his father for insisting he carry some Muggle money 'just in case'.

In contrast to the mill, this building was clean and large, with lifts on either side of the foyer and a placard with names and office numbers prominently displayed. At a semi-circular desk in the foyer, a security guard motioned at them.

"You there! Do you have an appointment?"

Abraxas smiled disarmingly. "Mr. Sill is expecting us." At the same moment, he hit the man with a _confundus_ charm, only seconds before two women came out of the elevator, chattering away on their path to the door.

"Nice one, Father," said Lucius appreciatively.

"Go on up," said the guard, blinking and wondering why he didn't know who these people were when he so obviously _did_ know them.

Lucius examined the panel with two buttons beside the elevator; he pushed one, then the other, and both lit up, to his amazement. The door slid open to what looked to be a tiny, empty room. "Father, how do these things work?" It closed in his face, causing him to lurch back.

Abraxas pressed the button again. "Get in," he hissed, shoving his son from behind lest they encounter more people in need of hexing.

Once inside, the door sealed shut again. Both men, looking confused and uncomfortable, studied the panel of numbered buttons on the wall. When Lucius began to randomly push buttons, Abraxas slapped his hand away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded. The lift started to move upward, startling them.

"I don't know! Isn't this some kind of transportation device? We have to do something."

A bell dinged as number two lit up overhead; the door opened but the wizards stayed where they were. Evidently they'd gone somewhere, because the foyer was nowhere in sight. The next stop lit up number seven; again the scene outside had changed.

"We're going up levels," observed Abraxas. "This is level seven. Did you notice which one Sill is located on?"

"Ten," answered Lucius, gloating to himself. He'd figured it out! "Room number 1012."

'Room 1012' turned out to be Suite 1012. Sill's secretary sat in the front office along with an assistant, discussing a page she'd inserted in the typewriter. They looked up as the Malfoys approached.

Seeing no point in wasting time trying to convince the woman he had an appointment, Abraxas simply drew his wand for another _confundus_ charm as Lucius did the same to the assistant.

"Mr. Sill is expecting us," Abraxas intoned. "My name is Malfoy. Show us in."

Feeling positively bewildered and horrified that she'd forgotten this important appointment, she dutifully led the way and announced, "Mr. Malfoy is here to see you." She walked away in a daze before her boss had a chance to object.

Abraxas and Lucius stepped inside and closed the door. Facing them was a scowling, mature gentleman in a very expensive suit.

"I don't recall any Malfoy," Sill said sourly. "How did you get an appointment?"

Abraxas fairly ignored him. "Mr. Sill, my son and I are acting on behalf of Eileen Snape, widow of Tobias Snape, who was killed in _your_ mill due to malfunctioning of _your_ equipment. I have it on the word of your manager that you have decided not to grant the widow Snape the benefits owed her. Why is that?"

Sill glowered at him. "How dare you barge in here? If you have a problem, take it up with my attorneys."

With a rueful frown, Abraxas turned to his son. "Lucius, we may as well stop piddling around. Have you ever used the Imperius Curse?"

"No, sir," smiled the young man. "But there's a first time for everything."

"What are you—" blustered Sill, just as the curse struck him in the chest. His mind blanked, he felt warm and comfortable and …compliant.

"You will pay Mrs. Snape the amount promised her, and you will complete any essential paperwork to make it legal," ordered Lucius. A glance at his father asked if there was anything to add.

"Complete the forms and make any necessary authorizations now," said Abraxas. "We'll wait."

For the next half hour they relaxed in overstuffed leather chairs while Mr. Sill feverishly filled out and signed a stack of forms, called for his secretary to send them to the appropriate departments, and finally wrote out and signed a check totaling what amounted to three years' salary for Tobias Snape, which he gave to the secretary with the directive to mail it immediately to the grieving widow.

"Is that it? There's nothing more?" queried Abraxas.

"That's it," said Sill. "Everything is taken care of."

Lucius gave another round of commands. "You have no regrets about this, other than to wish you'd given her more. You will make no attempt to recover the money by any means whatsoever. To do so would cause you excruciating, debilitating pain. Is that understood?"

"Of course. I'll make no attempt to recover the money," parroted Sill.

Abraxas sidled over to Lucius. "How long does this curse last?" he whispered.

"No idea," Lucius whispered back. "Forever, I guess, unless I deliberately remove it." Out loud he said, "You will go about your life as usual now and forget about us. It was your idea alone to remit compensation to Mrs. Snape."

"My idea," the man echoed.

Lucius and Abraxas strolled nonchalantly from the office, both wearing identical smirks. But for the age difference, they might have passed for twins.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was early May, the last trip to Hogsmeade as Hogwarts students, for the seventh years, at any rate. While a joyous occasion, it proved to be somber as well, as students took stock of the fact that they'd be parting from friends in a month's time, some of them forever.

The Marauders found themselves in the Three Broomsticks for a round of butterbeers; requests for wine and firewhiskey were denied, as the chaperoning teachers had wisely advised shopkeepers ahead of time not to inebriate the students. Lily, James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter sat around a small table sipping their beverages and discussing their futures.

"Naturally, Lily and I will be getting married," said James smugly.

"Really? I don't recall being asked," retorted Lily, glowing inside. She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "What about you, Remus?"

Lupin peered down at a spot of butterbeer smudged on the tabletop. "I'm not sure. Not too many people in the wizarding world are keen on werewolves."

"So don't tell them," advised Sirius practically. He took a swig from the bottle of firewhiskey he'd paid another customer to purchase for him and had plopped on the floor beside him. "I think I'll be an auror. It's exciting and cool."

James' eyes lit up. "Yeah! We could all be aurors together, it'd be like now, only not in school!"

Peter made a faint whimpering noise. "I'd never pass the test."

"And they don't take werewolves," Remus reiterated, growing irritated. "Maybe I'll join the Muggle world for a while. They don't believe in people like me, I'd get by pretty well." His words seemed to affect Sirius, whose dark, hard stare trained on Lupin, making him squirm. On closer examination, he discovered Sirius was staring past him; he turned round enough to see Regulus at a table in the distance by the window with a group of Slytherins. "Why don't you go say hello, Sirius?"

"Why don't you get off my case?" growled Black. Snatching up his bottle, he tossed back a long draught. The lightheaded feeling collided with the burning in his stomach to create an odd euphoria tainted by the conversation. "What do I need with that snarky little wanker?"

"He's the only brother you have. And you shouldn't be getting sloshed, you'll get in trouble."

"Like I care! What're they gonna do, give me detention?" He snorted in derision and gulped another few swallows.

James spoke up, only because he'd noticed half the bottle empty, and Sirius hadn't been sharing it. "Sirius, you've had enough. You'll be really sick."

"Damn it all to f—king hell!" Sirius burst out as he jumped up. His chair scooted backward and flopped over onto its back. "Mind your own business!" Holding onto the neck of the firewhiskey bottle for dear life, he stumbled off to the door, spun back, and shouted across the room at Regulus, "That goes for you, too!"

The Slytherins, not hard enough of hearing to miss the commotion, gawked at Sirius making a scene. As one, they looked to Regulus for an explanation of the last comment. He made a face and shrugged in an exaggerated fashion.

"How would I know why a blood traitor does what he does?"

Remus got up. "We shouldn't let him go off alone."

"Why not? He needs to cool off," said James, who was busy nuzzling Lily's neck.

"He's drunk!" Remus protested.

"Sit down, Moony. If you chase him, he's liable to clobber you."

Lupin slid back into his chair. James was right, Sirius could be downright violent when intoxicated. Under the best of circumstances he was difficult to reason with, and right now was not the ideal circumstance. He'd be purely impossible. He hoped they wouldn't find him passed out somewhere and have to drag him back to Hogwarts—or worse, he hoped no _teacher_ found him inebriated and/or unconscious.

When half the Slytherin Quidditch team trooped by on their way out only minutes later, Lupin purposely avoided eye contact. He didn't need their sneering faces to remind him of the locker room incident.

The team hadn't gone more than fifty meters before they came across Sirius holding up a tree a distance off the street. To their surprise and amusement, he began to taunt them with, "Slytherin scum! Always got your gang, huh, Regulus? Can't fight one to one."

As if to substantiate his claim, three young men charged at him and stopped short at the sight of his wand aimed at them. Two others whipped out their own wands, but Regulus pushed his way to the front, beckoning angrily at them to put the weapons away. He walked straight up to Sirius, eyes blazing.

"I don't need a wand or a gang to take you on."

"Sure. The rest of the gits will jump me," Sirius slurred.

"Just me, no interference." Regulus pivoted around to the others with a steely glare as if challenging them or warning them, perhaps both. He turned back to his brother. "I'm sick of your attitude, your stupid pranks, your arsehole remarks. If you're man enough, which I doubt, put the wand away and fight me."

Sirius burst out in a belly laugh that doubled him over, wheezing so hard he could barely choke out, "_You_ want to fight _me_?"

The implication of the remark was the final straw, the final insult. Regulus balled his fist and slammed it into Sirius' jaw, sending him spinning onto the ground, where his wand fell from his hand underneath him. Regulus pounced at him and kicked him in the stomach, to the wild cheering of his teammates. A second kick was thwarted when Sirius caught his foot and torqued it roughly; Regulus landed with a thud on his face in the sticky mud, filling his mouth with the horrid stuff. From there the boys took to grappling, eye gouging, throwing wild punches that didn't connect solidly as they rolled around the sodden ground hurling every slur they could dream up.

Neither boy noticed when the Slytherins parted to allow Professor Slughorn to come waddling between them, though they couldn't fail to notice when they were separated by a powerful hex that jolted them apart to land some distance from one another. They looked up in alarm.

"Boys, this kind of activity is not permitted," Slughorn snapped, frowning. He absolutely detested dealing with wayward students. Typically, he found it easiest to ignore bad behavior unless it was excessive, like now.

"He hit me first, I was defending myself," Sirius mumbled through split lips.

"He's drunk," Regulus tattled. "And he was belittling me." He held one hand over a rapidly swelling eye.

Slughorn lurched over, took one lad by each pudgy hand, and hoisted them up. "Brothers shouldn't fight, no matter their differences." As they each began to protest, he ordered, "Detention tonight with me. No excuses."

Sirius bent over to pick up his wand. "Can I go?"

Slughorn nodded and Sirius stormed through the group, intentionally slamming a shoulder into Regulus, who immediately elbowed him in the back of his retreating head.

"Enough!" bellowed the professor. Every student within hearing range stopped dead. "One more wrong move from either of you and I'll haul you to Dumbledore myself! I doubt the Headmaster would forgive even a Gryffindor's drunkenness," he said to Sirius, who winced a bit. "And Regulus, I'd hate to have to punish you severely, so don't force it. Mr. Black, move along!" So unused to any display of anger from the man that it cowed them instantly, the Slytherins moved off and Sirius dashed away. "You boys get on about your business."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Death Eater bastard," Sirius hissed at his brother as he manually scrubbed the top of a lab table, their wands having been confiscated for the duration of their detention.

"Blood traitor puke," retorted Regulus, working on a nearby table. "I hate you." His previously swollen eye had been taken care of by Severus, as had the rest of his minor injuries. It pleased him to see Sirius' puffy, split lips.

"Not as much as I hate you—and Snivellus! He took you to Voldemort after I warned him not to, and he'll pay for it!"

"_Severus_ didn't take me, Bella did, so kiss my arse," said Regulus. As he passed by he spit on the work Sirius had just finished.

In a heartbeat Sirius lunged across the table, grabbed him by the neck, and shook him roughly. "I oughtta kill you!"

"So—do—it," Regulus croaked, futilely pulling at the iron grip.

Instead Sirius pitched him backward; his spine struck the edge of another table and he cried out as he clutched his throat. Sirius returned to cleaning with furious, wicked scouring strokes. After a few minutes of nursing his raw throat and throbbing back, Regulus came over to confront him.

"So why didn't you kill me?"

"You're not worth going to Azkaban for," sniped the other.

"I'm a Death Eater. They'd probably give you a medal," said Regulus, truly curious.

"Leave me alone." Sirius turned his back to start another table, but really to avoid looking at his brother.

"Sirius, I mean it. You could murder me and I doubt the law would do a thing about it."

Sirius rounded on him, fist raised. "Do you have a death wish? Just _shut up_! I _should_ kill you for the things you do, and if you keep shoving it in my face, I might do it!"

"What things I do? So far I didn't do anything but get tortured a whole lot," confessed Regulus with a quick glance at the door lest Slughorn come back. "If I knew what I was getting into…" He shook his head in lieu of finishing his sentence. He had known, Snape had tried to warn him.

"So now you regret it?" asked Sirius, standing still to study his brother. Regulus was ridiculously easy to read; he detected no deception.

The other gave a half-hearted shrug. "I had to join. You could say I regret it."

"So quit."

Regulus sneered. "Yeah! How long do you think I'd live if I did? Until Lord Voldemort is defeated, I'm stuck."

"Why don't you take him down from the inside?" asked Sirius.

"I can't. You don't know how powerful he is and how dedicated his servants are. They'd butcher me if he didn't. All I can do is try to keep from being noticed." Regulus began to swipe slowly at a table.

Sirius finally left off scrutinizing him and went back to cleaning. So, the brat was sorry he'd joined, that was good. He was a slave until You-Know-Who bit the dust…not so good. Maybe as an auror, Sirius would be able to do _something_, possibly even confront this evil wizard. Dumbledore had mentioned not long ago about a group opposing Voldemort—the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe _that_ was the way to go.

"Sirius…I don't really hate you," murmured Regulus.

"I don't hate you, either," Sirius answered.

The young men looked up at one another; their eyes met, and they smiled.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Surprised by her sister's unexpected arrival, Narcissa hurried over to her. "Bella, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine," said Bellatrix by way of welcome, strutting across the foyer with her high heels clicking. "So, where's blondie?"

Narcissa's stomach clenched. "Is he wanted? Why didn't the dark lord use the Mark to summon him? He's not in trouble, is he?"

Bella waved a casual hand. "Chill, Cissy! The master doesn't want blondie, I just wondered. I was bored, so I decided to come here." She pranced on by her sister, leading the way to the nearest parlor.

"His name is _Lucius_. Why can't you use his name?" Narcissa griped, following her. Goodness, her dresses seemed to have gotten even shorter of late!

Bella fell into a chair and sprawled out in a very unladylike fashion, one leg hooked up over the arm. "Loo-see-us," she mimicked, then cackled. "He's so prim and proper. How do you stand it, Cissy, letting him put his hands on you?"

_I could ask the same of you and the dark lord_, she grumbled. "That's private, but for your information, I happen to like it when he puts his hands all over me and—"

"Gag! We _are_ talking about _Lucius_ Malfoy?"

"Of course we are!" Narcissa responded hotly.

Her sister snickered loudly. "Well, I'm only saying that Abraxas is pretty fit. If you were to stray there, I could totally understand."

"He's my father-in-law!"

"Exactly," said Bella as if explaining to a dolt. "He's close at hand, desperately lonely without his wife, and as I mentioned, quite sensual."

"Do you have a thing for Abraxas, Bella?" Narcissa inquired in astonishment.

"No! Why would you think that?" The expression on her face clearly bespoke her sister's insanity at accusing her of such a thing.

Narcissa rolled her eyes and twisted her features. She was beginning to see what Lucius meant when he complained that Bella was a little 'off'. "You're denigrating my husband, but Abraxas looks like an older version of Lucius."

Bella dipped her brows in confusion, apparently not seeing the connection. "Does he? I never noticed any similarity."

"Similarity to what?" asked Lucius, striding in to kiss his wife, ignoring Bella's distasteful looks. "Hello, my love. Hello, Bella." His sister-in-law grunted at him and turned her attention to his father.

Abraxas nodded to the women. "Good evening, ladies. Are we interrupting?"

"No, Abraxas, your company is always a pleasure," said Bella sweetly, extending a hand to him.

Narcissa added, "We were having girl talk, but we're finished now. Tell us about your day."

Lucius plopped down on the sofa beside her, sighing and feigning a woebegone look. "First of all, you would not believe the atrocious Muggle outfit Father made me wear…"


	34. Chapter 34

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Four

Lucius disliked shopping, as a rule. He _despised_ shopping in Muggle areas as Lord Voldemort had forced him to do, he _loathed_ shopping for women's clothing, particularly _shoes_, but overall he simply didn't enjoy the activity. He'd have sent Sisidy to buy a present for Narcissa's upcoming birthday, were it not for the fact that house elves tended to have a taste for gaudy baubles. Narcissa was refined and perfect, she deserved a gift that showed it. And so, Lucius took himself down to Horizont Alley in search of something worthy of a Malfoy woman.

Jewelry was always a good bet, his father advised him, as if he hadn't thought of that himself. The first and only place on his list to visit was Maytel's Jewels, the most expensive of the jewelry stores—because, after all, you get what you pay for. He perused the shop, peering intently down into the glass counters at a wide variety of rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, not really impressed. He could have found a similar spread in any of the other shops.

"Mr. Malfoy, is there anything I can help you with?" inquired Mrs. Maytel, who'd tailed him around the entire time pointing out especially lovely pieces.

Lucius frowned in lieu of yawning. "I'm not finding anything I like. My wife isn't common, she requires accessories to showcase her beauty."

"Please, come back here with me," Mrs. Maytel invited, indicating a tiny room to the back of the shop. "We keep the most exclusive, and I'm afraid most expensive, objects out of sight."

Intrigued, Lucius followed her into the cramped room, wondering why he'd never heard of this before. He'd been jewelry shopping before… His attention became focused on a narrow wooden cabinet built into one wall; the top had been un-charmed and lifted, revealing several exquisite sets of gems of varying colors and styles. His eye automatically drew to the emerald set, but the woman lifted instead a teardrop sapphire necklace on a white gold chain so fine it almost appeared not to have a chain at all.

"This would complement your wife's coloring and her eyes, don't you think?"

Lucius rested it in his palm. It was certainly delicate and elegant like Narcissa, and the blue matched her eyes very well. Again he cast a glance over at the emerald set, which seemed clunky and mannish in comparison. "Are those the earrings to match?"

"Indeed they are. There's also a bracelet." She held up what almost looked like several blue teardrops suspended in the air.

The man shook his head curtly. The chain might easily snap, being so thin, and while he didn't begrudge spending a great deal of money on his wife, he didn't like the idea of all those galleons falling in the gutter due to a broken chain. "I'll take the necklace and earrings. Wrap them and send them to Malfoy Manor, charge my account at Gringott's for the balance."

"Thank you for your business, Mr. Malfoy, I'll do that," the woman chirped, glowing as she picked up the earrings.

Lucius left the shop feeling a great weight off his chest. Narcissa's birthday was taken care of, he was now free to do as he pleased. Only a short jaunt down the street he entered a pub.

"What can I get you, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the bartender.

"Malfoy?" echoed a voice.

Lucius turned to see an elderly gentleman at a table to his left. He should know that man…Breen. Ciro Breen. With a polite smile he extended a hand. "Mr. Breen, how are you this afternoon?"

"Fine, lad. And you? Won't you join me?"

"Of course." Having instructed the bartender to bring him an ale, Lucius pulled out a chair and seated himself opposite the man. "So, Governor, what brings you to Horizont Alley?"

"The wife," confessed the old man. "She's got the grandchildren to shop for, I'm just here." He chuckled as he took a swig of his wine, and from the flushed appearance of his visage it was evident he'd been drinking for some time while waiting for the woman.

"I see. I've been dragged here before by my wife," Lucius commiserated.

"Where is it you work, young man? Department of Misuse of Magic?"

"No, Underage Magic. Enthralling work," he sighed, trying not to sound as bored as he felt at the mention of his job. The bartender brought him his ale, which he sipped genteelly. If he got half-lit in public again, both Narcissa and his father would have meltdowns.

"Am I remembering correctly—didn't you say you'd like to be a governor?" the man asked with an odd, shrewd look.

Blank faced, Lucius replied, "I may have mentioned it. Why do you ask?"

"Well, at the risk of sounding rude, I'm not entirely sure you're cut out for governorship."

"Excuse me?" drawled Lucius, blinking in surprise.

"Don't get me wrong, lad, you're bright as they come," the man said, taking another swallow of wine. "You'll go far in the Ministry. The thing is, everyone knows Malfoys hold traditional pureblood ideas. The way Hogwarts is integrated nowadays, those ideals might hinder your effectiveness as governor. I believe you'd do better to set your sights on another position."

For a long, awkward moment Lucius didn't reply. How exactly does one reply to the suggestion that one is unfit for a desired career? Surprise had been overtaken by anger and resentment, neither of which showed on his placid countenance. Yes, he believed purebloods were superior because they _were_! He refused to pretend otherwise. Slowly he intoned, "That's certainly food for thought." _Not to mention a huge slap in the face._ "Do the other governors feel the same?"

"I wouldn't know, I haven't discussed this with anyone but you. Isn't their business, now is it?" Breen smiled.

"No, sir, it isn't." The urge to toss his drink in the man's simpering face was barely contained by years of self-control. How dare he judge Lucius' suitability for the job when they'd met only once before! He had no authority, no right! And what if Lucius went ahead and applied for the position when Breen retired, as he was sure to do in a year or two; would Breen put in a word against him, preventing his appointment?

"I'd best go, my wife expects me to join her for lunch." Breen got up.

Lucius stood up as well. "I'll walk you out." Slightly behind the other man, Lucius followed him out. "Governor, would you mind?" With a quick look around to make sure they weren't detected, he took hold of the old gentleman's sleeve and before Breen could respond they Disapparated.

"Where are we?" Breen demanded, swiveling his head around the orchard at Malfoy Manor. "Why did you—"

The wand already clutched in Lucius' hand shot out a hex that struck Breen in the chest, and he became immobile, almost trancelike. "Governor Breen, you're going to retire within the week. You will nominate and strongly recommend Lucius Malfoy as your replacement. Any suggestion to the contrary will be wholly unacceptable. You will conduct your life in your ordinary manner, you won't remember coming here, you won't remember being placed under the Imperius. You will only have a strong desire to see Lucius Malfoy take your place as governor because he is intelligent, capable, fair-minded, adept at business, and any other compliments you care to come up with. Do you understand what you're to do?"

"Yes, Malfoy. I'll see to it that you're instated at my retirement."

"Good job, Ciro. I call you Ciro because you consider me almost like a son, we're so like-minded." Lucius smirked, holding back the snickers clamoring to burst forth. He felt absolutely exhilarated. First the Muggle, now Breen; if he'd known how easy it was to _imperio_ people, he might have begun years ago! But no, caution and prudence must still prevail. This must be used only in extraordinary circumstances. "And call me Lucius. We _are_ friends."

"Alright, Lucius. I'll go begin the process of retiring now."

"Not quite yet. You're to have lunch with your wife first, tell her of your plan. And don't forget to invite me to the retirement party."

Breen smiled. "You're such a helpful young man. I'm glad you'll be taking my place." He gave a little wave and Disapparated.

Alone in the orchard, grinning broadly, Lucius strolled up toward the mansion. Everyone would be so surprised in a few days' time when they discovered he'd been named the new governor. He'd better practice his amazed-yet-pleased expression, there were bound to be photographers present.

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Grueling. The past week had been absolutely grueling for the seventh years at Hogwarts as they endured their N.E.W.T. exams. Severus walked out of the testing area with a throbbing headache in his temple, which he rapidly quelled with the tip of his wand.

"Are you alright, Severus?" asked Glenna, reaching up to stroke his head.

"Yes, I'm fine—the stress of it—I'm fine. Do you think you passed?"

Glenna gave a rueful smile and shrugged. "I really don't know. I'm sure you passed, though. You've never failed an O.W.L., so I think you'll do great on your N.E.W.T.s."

Severus took her in his arms and squeezed her to him so hard she squealed. "I'm glad you believe in me."

"I do. You have so much potential, you can do whatever you want." At the look crossing his face she revised her statement. "As long as You-Know-Who approves, that is."

"I wish I knew what he wanted. Right now I can choose, but if it conflicts later on…I don't want to talk about that." Hand in hand they proceeded down the corridor. When they reached the Slytherin common room, they flopped down on a couch in exhaustion.

"Severus, do you ever think of our future?" Glenna remarked casually. At least she hoped she appeared casual.

"Not really. I'm content the way things are," he said truthfully.

"But things won't stay this way. We'll be leaving school very shortly, you'll get a job, I—I don't think I'll get one, my parents don't think it's appropriate for a young lady. They say I should get married," she said, watching Severus' face for signs of reaction.

Severus' lips drew back into a grimace. This was it—they were having _the talk_! "We're too young to seriously consider marriage, and I don't want to end up fighting all the time like my parents did for most of my life."

"We're not them, and lots of people wed young. What if we decided to have a baby? Shouldn't we be married?" Glenna persisted.

The young man snorted. "I definitely don't want kids. They're a pain."

"You're so good with Tina and Julius."

"They're my siblings, not my children."

Glenna's head dropped and she averted her face. "I always assumed you wanted a family."

Severus put his arm around her, pulling her close, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, to what sounded like a plea for understanding. "I already have a family to take care of, I don't need any more responsibilities, Glenna. Aren't you happy?"

"Yes," she murmured reluctantly. If 'happy' meant melancholy and disillusioned, she was positively ecstatic. "I'm tired, I'm going to my room to rest." Wiggling out of his grasp, she hurried from the room and into the girls' dormitory.

Severus could have called after her, he wanted to, yet there were numerous students in the room, he hated to draw attention that way. She'd be back for supper, they'd work things out then. He gave a mirthless, silent laugh. _Could_ they work it out? Glenna had been as plain as it was possible to be without painting him a picture, but he wasn't ready for that kind of commitment. There was so much going on right now. Maybe if he convinced her to wait, if things changed for the better…

"Hey, Sev, what's up?" Nott ambled up to the sofa not looking nearly as worn out as he should after a N.E.W.T.

"I think Glenna's cross with me," he said sullenly.

"You think? You don't even know?" scoffed Nott. "Heck, I don't even have a girlfriend, but I can tell when a girl is mad at me."

"Bully for you," drawled Severus.

"Want some firewhiskey? I have some in the room."

Severus shook his head. "I don't drink." Even so, he got up to go to his room. He was quite drained.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Glenna hadn't come out of her room for supper. Severus waited, he sent a younger girl up to fetch her, to no avail. The only response he got was, "I'm not hungry." At last, in frustration, he went off without her. It felt strange and awful to be traversing the hallways alone…well, not technically alone, for his roommates and Regulus accompanied him. Still, he didn't like it one bit. To know he'd left her distressed made him doubly grieved.

After he'd gone, Mulciber slipped out from the alcove in the common room where he'd been keeping watch and made a beeline for the girls' dorm. If Glenna had the same room as last year, he knew exactly where she'd be. If not…that could be problematic. He tapped lightly on the door.

Silence. Finally he heard a stirring and the door opened. Glenna's eyes, red from weeping, infuriated him. He was more than a little tempted to run to the Hall, pounce on Severus, and beat him half to death for offending her.

"Jack, what're you doing here? If Professor Slughorn catches you in the girls' dorm—"

"Don't worry about me, I don't really care. Can I come in?"

Glenna's first thought was to tell him no, yet if one of the girls saw her talking to him, it would get back to Severus. She didn't want the boys fighting. "You can come in for a minute, but if you try to kiss me again you'll be singing soprano."

Jack laughed as he passed her; he loved how spirited she was. Then another look at her sorrowful visage brought a renewed anger burning in his chest. "He hurt you, Glenna. I told you he would."

"I'm just upset, I'll get over it."

"You'll get over him not wanting to marry you?" asked Mulciber as he lay back on one of the beds, the one he thought might be hers.

"Were you eavesdropping?" she hissed, pushing his feet down, making him sit up.

"The common room's not exactly private, you know." When she turned away, biting her lip, he barely managed to resist an urge to take her shoulders and spin her to him. He dared not, it violated the agreement with Severus not to touch her. Even so, he stood up to come close to her. "I _do_ want a family. If you decided to dump him and come to me, I'd welcome you with open arms. If not, I hope we can still be friends after graduation. That's all."

"Yeah, we can be friends," Glenna said softly. "But Jack, please stop trying to get back together with me. It hurts me and I can see it hurts you, too."

"Until you're married, whether to Snape or someone else, I can't stop trying. I love you, I want you to be happy, preferably with me. It kills me that he'd have the gall to reject you."

"He didn't reject me!" she retorted, wheeling on him. "We're young, we need to give it time, he said. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I guess." If only he had the words to make her see that she was driving him out of his mind. If only he could make her love him again. What did she see in Snape? So he was smart and good at potions and healing. He wasn't handsome like Jack, and he obviously sucked at giving a girl the security she needed. "I'd better go."

"Jack—thanks for coming. Thank you for caring," she whispered, afraid she might break down in front of him, which could only be disastrous for them both.

"I'll always care," he promised simply. "I'll see you later."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Blondie! Oh, sorry—_Lucius_," Bella sneered sarcastically. "What brings you here?"

Lucius strode right past her. "Not really your business," he answered, though his excitement prevented him from looking stern. "Where's the master?"

At the sight of Rodolphus sauntering in from the left, Lucius bit back a nauseated frown. It was bad enough to picture Bellatrix 'getting freaky' with Lord Voldemort—an image he wished he could scour from his brain—but to imagine Bella having two lovers in the same place, possibly at the same time, made him want to throw up. He rather forgot why he was here.

Bellatrix rapped the top of his head with her wand. "Anybody home? Ah, there you are. The master said he'll see you when the other gets here."

"What other? And when did he say that? You've been here the whole time."

She smirked in her infuriating Bellatrix-smirking way that always made him want to swat her like a mosquito. "He called Snape."

That was all: _He called Snape_. Was that good or bad? He wouldn't have long to wait, for Severus came hurrying in looking as bewildered as Lucius felt. They exchanged glances of uncertainty while indulging in a pathetically stilted conversation.

"Severus, how are you?"

"Fine, Lucius. You?"

"Likewise."

Rodolphus gestured at the two of them. "Touching reunion. You'd better get in there."

Together they entered the large room to find Voldemort seated on a _throne_! Lucius dropped to his knees, crawled over, and kissed his robe; Severus did the same, then they got up, neither one betraying by expression or word how aghast they felt at the sight before them. If Voldemort whipped out a crown for his head, Lucius was certain he'd lose his composure and burst out laughing, subsequently bringing about a severe episode of rolling on the floor screaming like a colicky newborn. Personally, he preferred to do without the pain.

"My lord, I have wonderful news," Lucius began hesitantly, still wondering why Severus was here, and fervently hoping it didn't involve torturing the boy for some perceived fault—or worse, making _him_ torture the kid.

"Yes, Lucius?" said Voldemort, drawing out the 's' longer than his typical snake-like hiss.

"Master, I've accomplished the goal you set for me," Lucius explained, growing animated and grinning in spite of himself. "I've been appointed governor! I'll be able to oversee Hogwarts and Dumbledore!"

Severus nearly wrenched his neck he swung it so fast, though only a slight widening of his eyes betrayed his shock. He'd presumed it would take years to pander to enough people to acquire such a position. Then again, this was Lucius Malfoy, he'd been flattering and ingratiating himself with people since he was a young boy, and no matter what anyone might say, wealth speaks loud and clear.

For his part, Voldemort practically radiated satisfaction. His cruel mouth twisted upward at the corners and his red eyes lost a hint of their fierceness. "Excellent, Malfoy! Well done, my friend."

"Thank you, my lord," responded Lucius, inclining his head in acceptance of the praise.

"How did you manage it so quickly?"

Here Lucius stumbled. Rather than on merit, he'd used dark magic, for which the dark lord couldn't fault him, could he? Nevertheless, the truth was the only sensible course. "Last week the previous governor informed me that he thought I was wasting my time in pursuing the position, so I proved him wrong. I placed him under the Imperius and ordered him to resign and nominate me as his successor."

Voldemort positively exploded in roaring laughter—roaring cackles, at any rate. Severus stared over at his friend with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The Imperius was an Unforgivable Curse…but then, so was the Cruciatus, and he'd used that plenty of times. Still, the audacity of the man to use it on someone of such high office! He felt a whole new respect for Lucius developing on the spot.

"Lucius, my friend, my loyal servant, I am extremely pleased with your tidings, especially as our friend Severus will be leaving Hogwarts in another week or so. This couldn't have come at a better time."

"The pleasure is mine, master," said Lucius, literally basking in the unaccustomed commendation.

All at once Voldemort turned on Snape, who'd put out of his mind that he was here for a reason other than watching Lucius proclaim his success. "Severus, I've summoned you for a report. I set you to spy on Dumbledore, yet I've heard nothing from you." He didn't look even vaguely happy anymore.

Severus ducked his head automatically as the cold red eyes landed on him. "Master, I haven't much to tell. I was only able once to sneak into Dumbledore's office. He has a pensieve."

"A pensieve?" The dark lord leaned forward slightly. "These are not common. Did you look into it?"

"Yes, my lord, but I had very little time. I saw Dumbledore with Grindelwald, they were discussing ruling the world and subjugating or killing Muggles 'for the greater good', they said."

Voldemort's interest had become outright astonishment. He narrowed his eyes to slits. "Do you have any idea when this occurred?" If it were recent, he'd have two rivals, a very powerful team, to overcome.

"They were young, about my age," Severus said, unaware of the almost panicked musings of the dark lord.

A long hiss of air emanated from the master. "That hypocritical old bastard. He would condemn me for thinking the same things he did—or does, for all we know," he growled. "Make it a point to use the pensieve again before you must leave Hogwarts. And try to find something _valuable_ to the cause."

"Yes, my lord." He bowed low, then straightened to see Lucius peering intently at him, silently reminding him of his advice when he joined the Death Eaters—make himself useful. He _would_ make himself useful, in order to help bring about a quick end to this war. 

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Looking glum and depressed, Glenna sat alone in the common room when Severus returned. Without event thinking he charged over and swept her into his arms.

"I'm sorry I upset you, Glenna. I really am."

"I know, but it's my fault. I shouldn't have brought it up. We don't need to talk about marriage so soon," she assured him, clinging tightly to his thin yet strong frame.

"Thank you," he murmured, nuzzling his face in her hair. "Let's be happy right now." _Now is all we have_, he added to himself. Life was unsure enough for ordinary people; he was a Death Eater, they were at war, anything could happen. There was no telling what tomorrow might bring.


	35. Chapter 35

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Five

If it weren't for the fact that Hagrid was tromping around the castle, Severus might not have gained his opportunity. He wasn't precisely sure what the gigantic, hairy man did, something related to caretaking or animals or something, but whatever it was, it didn't involve the main body of the castle. So, he slinked along some distance behind the oblivious giant, trailing him all the way to Dumbledore's office.

"Licorice sticks," Hagrid rumbled, and the opening to the office cracked apart to allow him passage.

Severus lurked outside, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to hear anything, while hoping he might trick Hagrid into giving away some information, _any_ information about Dumbledore. The school year would conclude in two days, and Lord Voldemort expected another report; it wasn't wise or in his best interests to disappoint the dark lord. Already his skin prickled at the thought of enduring the Cruciatus again for his failure. Nonetheless, it wouldn't do to get caught here, so he moved off down the corridor and slipped into a dark side hall, wondering idly where it led to. This was not the time to get curious and investigate, and with the ludicrous make up of the castle, it probably led to a dead end. Or possibly to a man-eating creature of some sort. Definitely better not to investigate. Rumblings in the floor alerted him to Hagrid's return, and he was just about to reveal himself when he heard the Headmaster's voice.

"Thank you for your concern, Hagrid, but I think I can handle my own brother. We've had worse disagreements."

"Yeah, but he's none ter pleased, if yer get me meanin'. He's bin sayin' yer set 'is goats free on purpose," the humongous man noted with a shake of his massive head.

"First order of business will be rounding up the wayward animals, for which I'd thank you, Hagrid," said Dumbledore, the conversation already beginning to fade as it wafted down the hall. "A nice chat over a cup of ale and I'll convince him I had no part in it."

"D'yer think it's some of yer kids what snuck in ter Hogsmeade?" asked Hagrid as their voices floated away. The reverberations of his thunderous footsteps echoed even after he'd passed.

_Goats_, Severus smirked. Someone let the old man's goats free. If he'd known it would get rid of Dumbledore for a spell, he'd have done it himself. The minute the hallway was clear, he raced back to the office, spoke the password, and hurried in. By the time he reached the pensieve, he was out of breath.

He took out his wand and poked it into the silvery liquid, watching as images flashed by. His breath caught in his throat when he saw his despised nemeses, the four Marauders, and though he knew he should look for something significant, he felt compelled to view this memory. Sucking in a lungful of air, he plunged into the pensieve.

Severus hadn't left the office, but _they_ were here now, all four of them, so real he recoiled against the wall, wand at ready. _They can't hurt you_, he reminded himself, forcing himself to come forward.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk while the four young men stood in a row in front of him, not being scolded as they undoubtedly should have been. Instead they seemed to be tickled to be here. The old wizard peered hard at each boy with those twinkling blue eyes.

"I've called you here together because I find it impossible to believe I could speak to one of you without the rest hearing it anyway. This is a serious proposition I'm about to make, regarding a very grave matter." He lifted a bowl of peppermint drops. "Would you like some candy?"

"That's not very grave," Sirius mumbled under his breath as he nudged Potter, who chuckled along with him. Peter swiped a handful of the sweets.

"Now, boys, you've all heard of Lord Voldemort, I'm sure."

_Don't say his name!_ Severus hissed in his mind.

"You-Know-Who?" asked Lupin, looking worried. Pettigrew, mouth stuffed with candy, looked ready to faint.

"Yes, but I believe it increases fear when we don't use his name," explained Dumbledore. "Voldemort is growing powerful; his minions have been torturing and murdering people for years, but in the last few years it's escalated a great deal. If this war is to end on morally high ground, citizens need to take a stand."

_How very righteous of you to decide what's moral, Mr. 'For the Greater Good'_, Snape thought angrily.

"And you want us to fight?" asked Sirius excitedly.

"That would be your decision, Mr. Black. I offer you only what I have, which is the support of good people I've gathered to oppose this evil wizard. If you choose to join our side, I must admit it's quite dangerous. It's not a lark or a party, it's a war." Dumbledore stood up, stony faced. "I don't want your answers now, you need to carefully consider this offer. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me."

_That just figures! You'll ask those good-for-nothings to join your precious Order of the Phoenix but you won't ask me. How typical_, Severus seethed. It wasn't that he wanted the offer, even if he were free to accept it. It was the principle of the thing, the blatant _favoritism_.

He heard a scraping sound that he recognized as the office door sliding back. His heart leaped as he threw himself out of the memory, dashed across the room, and flung himself into a chair next to Dumbledore's desk, panting half in panic, half in rushed exertion.

Minerva McGonagall's head peeked in; not seeing the Headmaster, she started out, did a doubletake, and barged in with an astonished scowl. "Mr. Snape, might I ask why you're in the Headmaster's office when he's not here?"

"I'm waiting for him," said Severus meekly.

"How did you get in?" she demanded.

"His password is always candy," Severus mumbled, thinking on his feet. "I tried different ones until it opened."

"I'll ask you again, why are you here?" She crossed her arms over her bony chest and he was sure she was tapping her foot under the floor length robe.

As much as he loathed taking advantage of his father's death, he saw little recourse at the moment, he could think of nothing else to pacify the woman and get her off his back. "I wanted to talk about my dad, his death." The catch in his voice, while convenient, was real; he turned his head to look at the bookshelf. "Since he died, it's really important for me to get a job, and I thought maybe Professor Dumbledore might know of an available position."

McGonagall's stern face softened. "I am very sorry for your loss, Severus. When Dumbledore returns, I'll tell him you wish to speak to him."

"Thank you, professor." Snape got up and squeezed past the woman, silently swearing. Now he'd actually have to talk to Dumbledore about a job! Then again, he really did need one, it wouldn't hurt to get a recommendation, would it? Who would turn him down if Dumbledore gave a seal of approval?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Honey, you know how proud I am of you for becoming governor at such a young age," Narcissa hedged, toying with the pizza on her plate. She'd prevailed upon Lucius to take her to Vertik Alley, to the renowned open air food court with dishes from all over the world, by convincing him it wasn't Muggle food, per se, since it was prepared by wizards. As proof, a young man lifted a ball of dough in the air, then repeatedly spun it and tossed it high with his wand.

"I know you're proud of me," he acknowledged, squeezing her hand.

"It's just that… well, you _are_ young, and you didn't even apply for the position." Her blue eyes searched his, reading nothing. "Lucius, would you tell me if you'd gotten the job—"

"Narcissa," he interrupted with a harsh glance. "We're in public." He took out his wand and cast a silence bubble around them, though he retained a slightly sullen frown. "I thought you promised you wouldn't ask me about things related to my—extracurricular—activities."

Narcissa drew in a sharp breath with a gasp. "This has to do with _him_?"

"Yes. Although you're not supposed to question me, I did promise not to lie to you. He set this goal for me, I've achieved it. The less you know about any of it, the better for all of us." Lucius poked at his slice of pizza as if concerned it might be alive. The doughy crust dimpled with each prod.

"But I don't understand. How could this be related?"

"Darling, I _can't tell you._ It's for your safety and well-being." At last, holding it down with his fork, he cut off the tip of the slice and put it into his mouth, pleasantly surprised to discover it quite tasty and not at all repulsive. "What's the matter, don't you like it?"

Narcissa gave a little shrug, staring down at the food she no longer had an appetite for. Before their marriage she _had_ agreed not to involve herself, not to question him about what went on at his Death Eater meetings or what he did for Voldemort. In return he would be as emotionally open as he could be with her, rather than the formal, detached persona most people experienced. That was their deal, and up to now they'd abided by it, but this was different. Why would the dark lord want Lucius to be a governor? What could he get out of it? It made no sense.

"Sweetheart, are you angry with me because I can't discuss it?"

She raised her eyes to his, brimming with tears. "No, Lucius, I'm worried. You've gotten so good at being a Death Eater it scares me. Bella has even complimented your dedication, and she doesn't even like you. The more you play at the dark lord's game, the more you believe it, the farther you fall into his net."

Lucius scooted his chair up close to hers so he could put one arm around her waist while the other hand caressed and stroked her arm. "No, love. The more I play at it, the more Lord Voldemort and the others _think_ I believe it, and that's exactly what I want them to think."

"Why can't you try to remain anonymous?"

Very solemnly Lucius murmured in her ear, "This conversation is something you must always guard with Occlumency, do you understand?" She nodded and he went on, "If the dark lord ever found out I held no real allegiance to him, he'd kill me in a heartbeat. I must make him believe I'm his most loyal, or one of his most loyal followers." _Nobody can beat Bella for groveling and sucking up._

"So none of this means anything to you, none of this war that's building?"

"Of course it does, but I'm in this for me—for us, for our kind. Lord Voldemort is merely a pathway to my goal. When he leads the Death Eaters to victory, purebloods will rule the wizarding world, as it should be."

He didn't need to remind his wife that mudbloods only existed because somewhere in their ancestry a pureblood had mingled with a lowly Muggle, creating a magical child. As the child's descendants continued to mate with their own filthy Muggle kind, the magic became watered down, dormant until meeting another Muggle with magic in the ancestry. The two combined could produce a magical child once more. It was illicit, ill-gotten magic, undeserved. Tainted. They weren't even raised to respect magic or tradition. At least halfbloods had a magical parent, making them a huge step above mudbloods, while still considerably lower than purebloods.

"And how do you fit into this?" asked Narcissa.

Lucius gave one of his disarming smiles. "People like me, his most faithful and trusted, will hold the greatest positions of power. We'll be able to run the mudbloods out of our lives, back to the Muggle world they came from. Isn't that what you want, too?"

"Absolutely! I just don't want you to get hurt or killed."

Her husband leaned in to kiss her tenderly. "Believe me, darling, I don't want that any more than you do."

While Narcissa melted into the man's embrace, a tiny voice in the back of her mind said he was wrong. The colder he pretended to be, the colder he truly became to those outside his sphere of loved ones. He was no longer moved by suffering and death as he had once been, perhaps because he'd gotten used to seeing it… or dealing it out. She shuddered.

"Are you cold, love?" His arms closed around her only moments before a green hex flew by and struck a chair at the table next to them. It flipped over with a clang and skidded across the ground. Without thinking, Lucius dropped to the cobblestones, dragging a shrieking Narcissa with him and pinning her underneath him.

"Lucius, what's going on?"

He took only a second to assess the situation. Behind him, six Death Eaters in full robes and masks had popped in. "Go home _now_!" he hissed to his wife. She Disapparated immediately, and he whirled on the group, who'd half-circled a table not three meters from him and were trading curses with a man and his wife while two young children cringed under the table screaming. Lucius removed the silence bubble in order to hear what was happening.

From other points in the plaza witches and wizards ran for safety. Three of them, stationed behind cover in different spots, took up arms against the invading Death Eaters, distracting them from their apparent targets. Curses and hexes flew in all directions as the Death Eaters tried to accomplish their mission and defend themselves from outside attack at the same time. Bricks from buildings cracked and toppled to the pavement as spells struck them and ricocheted off them with the parrying of hexes.

When Lucius tried to lift his head up, another curse sailed by. Incensed, he shot back a stunning blow that knocked the Death Eater off his feet with a sharp cracking sound of bone breaking. Another Death Eater fell to the cobblestones a few meters away; one of his companions hovered over him, then stood up and shot an _avada kedavra_ at the woman who'd taken out the Death Eater. She fell across the table. Within seconds her husband succumbed as well, and the Death Eaters disappeared, taking their wounded with them. The whole episode had taken no more than three minutes.

Lucius thought it odd they'd forgotten the Mark in the sky, then deduced that most likely the citizens dueling them from afar had caused their hasty departure without leaving the telltale skull. Then he noticed something else: silence. He got up and went to the table where the attack had occurred, bent down, and swore loudly. Both children were dead, whether by accident or design. Other witches and wizards approached as well, most of whom recognized Malfoy, some of whom had seen him hex one of the Death Eaters and roundly commended him for it. When the aurors arrived shortly after, he gave them a brief statement before leaving, but he wasn't going home. No way on Earth was he going to let his own companions assail him unchallenged!

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There they were, the prince and princess of Gryffindor, hogging the hall like they owned the place, bragging to their companions about their N.E.W.T. scores. Glenna affected a bored posture as she leaned against a wall watching and listening.

"James and I got five N.E.W.T.s each," Lily squealed with obvious excitement.

_Whoopie! Severus got NINE_, Glenna thought, her heart burning with pride at his accomplishment. Severus sooo outranked them in every way!

"What did you get, Remus?" James asked.

"Seven," the shy boy said softly.

"That's great! I never knew you were so smart! How about you, Sirius?"

Black crumpled the parchment in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket, snorting to show his disinterest. "They don't mean anything anyway."

_Probably failed them all_, sneered Glenna. When she saw Lily head into the girls' lavatory, she couldn't resist following. She was waiting by the sinks when Lily came out. "Got a Troll mark in Potions, did you?" she smirked.

Lily dried her hands and squared off at Glenna. "Unlike you, I'm very good at Potions."

"Only because you had Severus helping you along for _five years_," she retorted derisively. "His mum taught him lots of stuff that he showed you, and don't deny it, he told me himself. He even made up better ways to do potions than in the books, so don't get all high and mighty."

"I don't want to argue with you, Glenna," said Lily, walking around the other girl.

"Who's arguing? I thought we were having a nice chat."

"You thought wrong." She flung open the door and stormed out.

"Can't handle the truth, I guess," Glenna said to herself. She'd better run along herself, Severus would be wondering what was keeping her, and for some reason he preferred she steer clear of Evans. Smiling and humming, she proceeded off to Slytherin House.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The scene outside Lord Voldemort's castle was anything but joyous or elated for the Death Eaters milling about, unmasked. Lucius arrived to find Nott, Sr. lying on the ground, dead, his son weeping softly over his body. Travers sat apart some distance from them, the side of his face slashed and bloody. Regulus sprawled in the dirt moaning and clutching one hand to his shoulder area. Yaxley, although evidently unhurt, prowled silently off to the side, for once keeping his mouth shut. The sixth member of the squad was absent, presumably inside speaking to the master.

Lucius took in the sight at a glance; he pitied the boy who'd lost his father, it was a tough break. Remembering what he'd seen at the outdoors café, he assumed young Nott had been the one to _avada_ the woman. He walked over and put a hand on Nott's shoulder, saying nothing because words were wholly inadequate at such a time. The boy looked up at him, his chin quivering, tears coursing down his cheeks, then turned his face back to his father.

Determined to confront those responsible for nearly taking his head off, Lucius said clearly, "Which one of you cast a hex at me—_twice_?"

No one paid him much mind, save to glance his way. Regulus raised one hand a touch. "I did, Lucius."

Struggling to contain the raging fury rising in his chest, Lucius stalked over, grabbed Regulus by the hair, pulled the shrieking boy to a sitting position, and backhanded him to the ground once more. "You little bastard, you could've hit Narcissa! The second one almost hit _me_!"

"I only did one, when you were on the ground," Regulus mumbled.

"Why did you aim at me at all? Was I the target?" bellowed the man.

"No. I wanted—"

"Since when do you attack fellow Death Eaters without an order to do so?"

"I didn't realize it was you till after, when you fired at me," Regulus pleaded, fearing Lucius might assault him again. Already he couldn't move one arm, courtesy of Lucius' spell that had done major damage. "I was trying to make you keep your head down and not jinx us."

"Good job," drawled the other snidely.

"My friends, welcome back. Congratulations on your victory over the wretched Edgar Bones." As Voldemort stepped outside, every eye turned his way and the group fell to their knees. Beside him, Bellatrix stood atypically silent, still wearing her Death Eater robes. "There has been a casualty, I hear. Young Nott's father. He was a good man, he served me well for many years."

Voldemort almost seemed to glide over to the corpse, to which he pointed as he said, "This shows dedication and loyalty, his willingness to lay down his life for his master and for the cause. His family will be well rewarded. Rise, Nott."

The boy stumbled to his feet, ashamed for the dark lord to see his tears. He should be happy, this was the way his dad wanted to die. "Yes, my lord?"

"Take your father home, tell your mother to say he suffered a heart attack."

"Yes, my lord."

Lucius rose and stepped forward. "Master, if I may speak?"

"Lucius, I'm surprised to see you here." No expression on his face showed surprise or anything else, for that matter. "By all means, what is it?"

"At the risk of sounding like an alarmist, Nott should still be at school. If it's discovered he was away, suspicion might arise surrounding the death. Perhaps he ought to take the body home, then return to school to await word."

"Ever practical, aren't we?" said Voldemort, though he admitted to himself the validity of his point. "Yaxley, take the boy and his father home. Nott, go back to Hogwarts this afternoon."

"Yes, my lord," the two said in unison. Yaxley strode over, both of them took hold of the body, and they Disapparated.

"Lucius, why _are_ you here?" asked the dark lord as he strolled about peering at each man.

"I happened to be at the site when the squad arrived," Lucius explained. "One of them threw a hex at me, I came to find out who it was."

"And exact revenge?" asked Voldemort, smirking as if he thought it only appropriate.

"Yes, master. It was Black; I threw a hex back, broke something from the looks of it. It's all been rectified now." The hard glare he sent Regulus' way told the boy to zip his mouth unless he wanted to 'play' some more.

A small 'pop' alerted them to an arrival. Severus came hurrying up, dressed in robes and mask, to fall at Voldemort's feet. "Master, you called."

"There were injuries during the raid today. Tend to them, Snape."

"Of course, my lord." He didn't ask what raid, he honestly didn't want to know. Quickly he got to his feet to mend Travers, who'd come over to be first. In less than a minute he'd used his wand to seal the gash on the man's face so seamlessly it wouldn't even leave a scar, then he turned to the boy lying on the ground. Apparently Regulus said something, for Snape turned his head to glimpse quizzically at Lucius. In the background he heard the dark lord and Lucius talking, but he focused on Regulus.

"He broke your collarbone," observed Severus after feeling around the shoulder and chest. "Why?"

Regulus gave a sheepish smile. "I kind of shot a hex at him and he retaliated."

"I don't think you need this advice—or maybe you do from the looks of it—but it's not smart to mess with Lucius. He can be kind or he can be cruel, depending on the circumstances." He manually manipulated the bone into place while Regulus writhed and clenched his teeth, then he dragged his wand along while whispering a sing-song chant. His hand ran over the area again, detecting tenderness, and he began again. Within minutes, Regulus was sitting up and grinning.

"I know about Lucius, I'm related to him, remember? It was a misunderstanding."

"You'd do well to cut the misunderstandings to a minimum," said Severus dryly.

"Thanks, I feel a lot better. You're a miracle worker, Snape."

"Not quite, but you're welcome."

Regulus' smile faded and he bent over close to his friend. "Nott's dad got killed in the raid. Nott and Yaxley just took his body home."

For a moment it didn't register, then a stricken look crossed Severus' face. He, of all people, understood losing a father suddenly. "Is he alright?"

"He seemed awfully upset."

"Snape, are you finished?" Voldemort's high voice pierced the air.

"Yes, my lord. Is there anything else you require?"

"No. You two get back to school before Dumbledore sends aurors after you." He cackled at the absurdity of it.

Severus watched Regulus go, then approached the dark lord with the information he'd acquired, little though it was. "Master, I was able to steal into Dumbledore's office once more to view the pensieve. He's been recruiting my schoolmates as members for his Order of the Phoenix."

Voldemort's slit-like eyes widened a touch. "And?"

"I don't know what their answer was, though I'm fairly certain they agreed to join. Their names are James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin." For the briefest instant he felt he should disclose the fact that Lupin was a werewolf; he didn't know why he didn't.

"Black? The blood traitor brother of Regulus?" scoffed Voldemort.

"Yes, my lord, that's him. He seemed quite anxious to join."

"And no doubt his brother would be quite anxious to see him dead," answered Voldemort, to the nodding of everyone present. Regulus made it plain to them all that he despised Sirius as much as Bellatrix did, if not more, which was a tough feat to accomplish. "Good work, Severus. I see my faith in you is well-founded. Go now, before your dear Headmaster causes a ruckus." To Lucius he said, "I have a job for you, Malfoy."


	36. Chapter 36

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Six

Like nearly everything else magical, the Governing Board overseeing the running of Hogwarts fell under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic. As such, Lucius was a paid employee, not a volunteer like in the Muggle communities, and he had only to trade one office for another upon his appointment as governor. He was thoroughly enjoying his new office, primarily because although it resembled the old one, this one had a window…and more importantly, it had a secretary who didn't pester him with those annoying underage magic cases. Truth be told, in the two days he'd held the post of governor, he hadn't actually done anything, didn't even precisely know what his job description entailed aside from overseeing Hogwarts, which had been his sole objective. But he was here, for now that was enough.

Until the door smacked open and Abraxas stalked in looking as if he'd like to wring his son's neck, that is. Lucius pulled his feet off the desk and sat up straight, genuinely concerned. "Father, is something wrong?"

"Something is very wrong. We need to have a little talk, let's go."

The young man's jaw tightened into a grimace. He suddenly felt like a fourteen-year-old boy in his father's study, where the words 'we need to have a little talk' were code for 'I'm going to whale on you with my cane'. "You can speak here. I'll charm a silence bubble."

Abraxas leaned over the desk to hiss, "Lucius, you're coming with me if I have to take you by the earlobe and drag you down the hall to the floo network. I'm sure that would give your underlings something to gossip about for years to come."

With a disgusted, "Hmph," Lucius stood up in one jerky move and yanked down his shirt robe to straighten it. "I'm not a child," he muttered, glaring daggers at the older man. "What's so important we have to leave to discuss it?"

"The walls have ears and eyes, son," Abraxas replied. With that he turned on his heel and snapped his fingers, motioning out the door. He rightly assumed Lucius would follow, which he did, grudgingly.

Together they strode in silence to one of the fireplaces, stepped inside, and were whisked off to Malfoy Manor. Right beside the fireplace stood Dobby holding a newspaper, which he handed to Abraxas. The man opened it to page three and thrust it into his son's hands.

A picture of Ciro Breen graced the top of the page under the heading 'Retired Governor Seeks Reinstatement'. Lucius' stomach dropped to his feet. This couldn't be! Swiftly he devoured the article wherein the old gentlemen questioned his own reasons for retiring and nominating one Lucius Malfoy, who in his humble opinion was too young and inexperienced for the job. The article went on to say Mr. Breen planned to hold a conference the following day with the panel of governors to answer inquiries on why he quit and why he deserved the position back.

Saucer-eyed with disbelief, Lucius let his arm fall; the paper dropped from his hand onto the floor. "I can't believe this. How could he?"

Abraxas returned a shrewd stare. "That's a very good question, son. I note that rather than say 'How dare he?' you chose to say 'How could he?'. Is this because you've done something that caused him to bow out and appoint you in his stead?"

"I might have encouraged him…" Lucius looked down, cleared his throat, and mumbled, "Quite forcefully."

"Did you threaten him?"

"No, sir." He made no further attempt to explain.

Abraxas sighed heavily. This was far too reminiscent of his son's growing up years, where any information had to be pried from him. "Lucius, you may as well just tell me now, I'll get it out of you eventually." No response. "This isn't a game, son. What did you do?"

"Why should I tell you?" The moment the words left his lips, he direly wished to retrieve them. Insolence came so naturally he often forgot to control it.

The steely voice answered him, "I doubt you'd delight in a trip down memory lane." Here Abraxas brandished his cane and slapped the tip of it on the floor with a resounding thump.

"I'm a little old for that, don't you think?" Lucius remarked, his back stiffening. While bravado came easily, he held no illusions about his father withholding retribution for his effrontery, regardless of Lucius' age. At the same time it peeved him, he chafed at the thought of being under the man's thumb his whole life, of answering to him for everything he did.

"As a matter of fact, I do think you're too old for a beating, but if you insist on it, you'll get it," Abraxas growled. "More to the point, I think you'll obey me, and I asked you a question. _What did you do to him?_"

"I _imperio_'d him," Lucius answered defiantly.

His father's impatience dissolved into incredulity, then morphed into exasperation. He threw up his hands while asking rhetorically, "_How_ did I know?"

"You should be proud, Father, you're the one who prompted me to use it the first time."

"On a Muggle!" the older man barked. "If he comes out of it, it doesn't matter—who's he going to tell? This is a wizard we're talking about! If he reports you to the authorities, you could land in Azkaban!"

Because there really was no response to such a statement, inasmuch as it was completely true, Lucius held his tongue. He'd assumed that once the Imperius had been employed, that was the end of it, and although he was aware that a tiny percentage of people were able to resist the Imperius, he hadn't seriously considered the possibility of Breen fighting it. Come to think of it, if he _had_ fought it, Lucius would have known immediately, Breen wouldn't have been so docile. Which meant it was something else.

"Damn it, Lucius, why do you do things like this? All your life I've tried to change you, but you stubbornly refuse to budge. How are we supposed to fix this?"

"What do you want me to say, Father? I'm sorry?" Lucius retorted, getting his dander up. "I'm _not_ sorry, I deserve that job as much as he or anyone else does. I didn't do the curse strong enough, that's all. For the Unforgivables you need to _mean_ it, and I took it too lightly."

Abraxas took hold of one of Lucius' arms and stared into his deliberately expressionless eyes. The boy so easily, so effortlessly soaked in the things that bastard Voldemort taught him, seemingly without worrying about when it was proper to use them. Yet he couldn't count himself blameless, he _had_ encouraged Lucius to use the curse the first time. He was rightfully perturbed at the young man's carelessness; more than that, he feared for his son. Lucius had been a disobedient, willful child who'd grown up into a willful adult in spite of the multitudes of punishments. The young man seemed incapable of staying out of trouble, but this Death Eater business had moved him to a whole new level. Azkaban hardly qualified as ordinary trouble.

Nevertheless, the Malfoy name and Malfoy wealth might be able to keep him out of prison even if Breen asserted he'd been cursed. Proving such a thing would be difficult, reasonable doubt existed. Lucius came from a fine, upstanding family, he'd never had a brush with the law, he donated vast sums to charities. Abraxas relaxed slightly.

"Father, I must go." Lucius pried the man's fingers from his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To fix this," he said. With that he walked toward the foyer.

"Lucius, don't do anything foolish!"

"Too late for that," Lucius said. "It's done, I have to work around it, but I won't allow him to besmirch our name." To the forbidding look of alarm on Abraxas' face, he added, "I'm not going to harm him, Father. No matter what you may believe, you didn't raise an idiot."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was the final day of school for the year at Hogwarts; tomorrow morning students would board the train for home. As per tradition, graduation ceremonies were to commence in mere minutes and the stands at the Quidditch pitch were full of parents, relatives, and those students who wished to attend, which comprised almost the entire student body.

On the field itself a grand stage had been erected, large enough to hold all sixty seventh years, as well as a podium for the speakers and chairs for the Headmaster and honorees. Each of the four sections of the stands was decked out in House colors, as were many of the relatives and students seated there. The Hogwarts band blared one tune after another while the crowd added to the commotion as they waited for the graduates to parade in.

Eileen Prince, one twin on either side of her, twisted around to speak to her parents, who were directly behind her. A bored Julius made a face at his sister for the fifth time, and she scowled back at him.

"Mum, Julius is making faces at me."

"Stop it, Julius," his mother intoned, barely even listening to them.

The boy stuck his tongue out at the girl, who threw her tiny purse into his face. "Mum, she hit me!"

"Justina, that's enough!"

"He started it!" Tina stamped her foot and began to cry. "You always let him do whatever he wants."

Eileen would have lowered her voice to avoid bystanders hearing her, only the noise was so loud she could scarcely be heard as it was. "Do I have to spank both of you right here in front of everybody? Why can't you get along for one evening? This is Severus' day, don't ruin it for him!"

Abashed, Julius hung his head. Justina cried even harder at being scolded. Mrs. Prince leaned forward, caught the girl by her blouse, and tugged.

"Come here, sweetie." She engulfed the sobbing child in her arms until she'd calmed down, then scooted over a little to let Tina sit between herself and her husband, who put a protective arm around the lass.

"Julius, you need to be kind to your sister, to defend her. There'll be plenty of boys to tease her, you ought not be one of them," he advised.

"Sorry, grandpa," he mumbled.

Mr. Prince bent over to ruffle his grandson's hair. "I'm not picking on you, boy, I just want you and your mum and your sister to have some peace."

"I know," acknowledged Julius. He got up to hug the man, then while he was up stretched over to hug his grandmother, which caused him to press against Tina, forcing her backward almost out of her seat. She shoved back at him; with a wicked grin he pulled her forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry, sis," he smirked as he returned to his seat.

"Ewww," Justina growled, harshly wiping at her cheek with her sleeve.

All at once the band's music changed. A voice over the loudspeaker announced the arrival of the graduates. Sure enough, the procession led by Dumbledore was headed into the stadium, every student in their finest dress robes, walking in two columns behind the Headmaster.

"There's Severus!" squealed Tina, pointing excitedly at the tiny figure so far off the adults couldn't make him out.

As they neared the stage, Mr. Filch prowled about inspecting the workmanship, grumbling at how he'd not been asked to erect the stage when he was so obviously the proper choice for the job. Noticing what appeared to be a large, loose bolt, he slinked in and flicked at it with his finger. When it didn't move, he began to twist it manually, exerting great effort to turn it… in the wrong direction. It shot off to land in the grass; there was a moment of unnatural silence before a tremendous, drawn out creaking emanated from the stage. Moments later the creaks were joined by groans, and suddenly half of the stage collapsed with an enormous crash, splintered boards and dust flying everywhere, resulting in a heap of broken boards covered with twisted and smashed chairs. Filch gave a horrified gasp, turned, and ran away in a fashion resembling a horse prancing.

James Potter cast a glimpse up the column at Sirius, who'd looked back at him at the same instant, both wondering if they'd missed something. James pointed at Sirius, who shrugged and shook his head as he mouthed the words, "I didn't do it!"

Professor Dumbledore held up a hand, motioning for the procession to stop, although they'd already come to an abrupt halt when the stage imploded. Even the band had ceased their playing, and the stands were quiet as people wondered what would happen now. Sighing, Dumbledore took out his wand and set to rearranging the stage, moving and repairing floorboards and chairs, setting them in their rightful spots, then adding an extra spell at the end to ensure no more 'accidents'.

"Look over there," Mrs. Prince whispered to her husband. "Isn't that Abraxas Malfoy's son?"

Mr. Prince turned his head to the blond man behind the graduates. "That's his spawn, alright. You know, Eileen, after Tobias died I don't know why Malfoy didn't offer you some of his bountiful wealth if he's so wonderful like everyone thinks."

"He did," Eileen hissed back. "I rejected it."

Astounded, her mother said, "Why? He owes you!"

"He doesn't owe me anything, and I don't need it now that Mr. Sill reconsidered and gave me that settlement. Can we not discuss this here?"

Tina asked, "Grandma, how come you don't like Mr. Malfoy? I thought he was really nice."

"Your mother doesn't want to talk about it, dear," Mrs. Prince said. "Oh, they're starting!"

The music commenced once more and the students filed up onto the stage to take their seats in alphabetical order. At the podium Dumbledore made the mandatory opening speech in which he thanked everyone for coming, praised the students for their years of hard work, and made special note of one student who couldn't be present due to his father's death.

He next introduced Lucius Malfoy as the new school governor. Lucius bowed slightly to the crowd and seated himself; he was here only for show, after all. His job was to shake hands and look nice, he could do that, even when he had to suck it up and shake the hands of mudbloods. Besides, with tomorrow's conference looming overhead, this made an agreeable diversion.

Finally, Dumbledore invited the top student from each House to join him on the other side of the stage where four vacant seats awaited beside Lucius. "In ascending order, based on N.E.W.T. scores, we have a tie: from Gryffindor, Remus Lupin with seven and from Hufflepuff, Cynthia Rice, also with seven."

The crowds in the stands cheered wildly, especially those from the two named Houses, as the two students stood up and moved across the stage to their seats. Lucius rose to shake their hands.

"From Slytherin, with nine N.E.W.T.s, Severus Snape."

An explosion of applause from the Slytherin section, and outright shock from some other corners. Sirius, who'd earlier mumbled to the girl next to him that he'd be surprised if Slytherin got even two N.E.W.T.s, dropped his jaw and gawked in astonishment. _Snape_? _Nine_?

Again Lucius rose, clasped his friend's hand with a hearty smile and said, "Congratulations, Severus. I only earned eight myself."

"And finally, our valedictorian from Ravenclaw, with ten N.E.W.T.s, Jacqueline Schumacher."

This time the applause rose to fever pitch, for a second later the Ravenclaw Quidditch team roared overhead in formation, streams of bronze and blue billowing behind them. They separated and flew toward each other again in interweaving, intricate patterns until at last there appeared in the sky the image of the Ravenclaw diadem, which burst into flame and then began to explode one bit after another into beautiful fireworks, leaving a gleaming, sparkling diadem hanging over the crowd for the remainder of the ceremony.

From there the graduation proceeded as usual. The valedictorian gave her speech, the students came forward one at a time to receive their diplomas as their names were called, and finally numerous awards were given out by teachers. From McGonagall, James Potter and Sirius Black each received an award for Advanced Skill in Transfiguration. Severus received the honors for both Excellence in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell Casting.

"Dark spells shouldn't count," Sirius muttered to no one in particular.

As the ceremony wound down, Dumbledore led the procession back to the Great Hall, followed by the spectators. Here the families and friends mingled during the party lasting well into the evening. All in all, another successful graduation.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus?"

Amid the commotion and turmoil of hundreds of voices, he turned around to the familiar voice, wishing Glenna hadn't just gone to speak to her parents. Feigning indifference, he said, "Hello, Lily."

"I wanted to say congratulations on your scores and your awards," she said. "You did brilliantly."

"You sound surprised," he drawled.

"No, I just—well, I—no, I'm not. Do you know what you're going to do after this?"

_Don't notice her eyes_, he cautioned himself. Those damned eyes always drew him in like a siren. For the life of him he couldn't understand why her presence evoked such emotions in him, such silly, infuriating emotions. He tried to concentrate on her shoulder, but his eyes slipped to her breasts. He forced himself to stare at her hair.

"Professor Dumbledore arranged for me to interview as an assistant at a potions shop," Severus stated. "I feel confident I'll get the job."

"That's good news." Lily seemed skittish, glancing around as if expecting someone.

"Does talking to me in public bother you, Lily?" he asked. "If you're afraid to be seen, you shouldn't have approached me." He should have known, she regretted her heroic gesture to the gawky Slytherin already.

"No, Severus, I—"

There he was, God's gift to Gryffindor, strutting up to put his arm around Lily as if he owned her. "Hey, Lily, here you are." The look he gave Snape was much less friendly.

Severus tried to hold back a full fledged sneer. "I'll be going. Have a nice life, Lily." He whirled around.

"Severus."

Snape froze in place. That wasn't Lily, it was Potter! Why did he use his real name? He'd been of the impression the moron couldn't pronounce it. "Yes?" He didn't turn around.

"We're leaving Hogwarts. I wish we could leave the animosity behind us," James said in an earnest tone Severus could almost believe. Almost. "We're adults, we ought to act like it."

"Is that an apology or an order?" asked Severus, spinning back to lock eyes with this hated foe.

"Neither. We've both done things we shouldn't have, that's all. Maybe it's time to call a truce."

_And who was it that started the whole business, Potter? Snivellus? No, it was you and that arrogant arse Black! But God forbid you might apologize for the humiliation and misery!_ So, he wanted a truce. What could it hurt? Severus shrugged one shoulder. "Fine, if we meet in the street we'll pass without incident, I can live with that. But don't expect me to forgive and forget. To my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over yet. Excuse me."

Once more he turned to stalk away, angry and confused, and unsure _why_ he was angry. He'd thought, in his stupidity, that Lily might actually want to congratulate him, but no…she'd only been paving the way for her boyfriend to come and ask for peace. _Potter wanted peace_, that was a good thing, so why did it bother Severus? Because he didn't trust Potter now any more than he did the night he and Black had plotted to have their werewolf buddy murder him, that's why! How could he trust Potter to be sincere after all he'd gone through for seven years? More than likely he and Black were laughing behind his back right now. No, he didn't forgive and he wouldn't forget. If he never saw any of the Marauders again he'd count himself blessed.

"Mum, it's getting late, you should take the kids home. I want to go to bed."

"You're not ill, are you, Severus?" asked Eileen.

"No, just tired. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight grandma and grandpa." He hugged all three of them, then bent down for the twins to smother him in embraces.

Glenna came over upon noticing the hugfest. "Are you leaving?"

"I'm tired," Severus answered for them. The family exchanged a few more words before going, then Severus leaned over to whisper in Glenna's ear, "If you get rid of your family, we can spend our last evening at Hogwarts in my room."

She smiled coyly at him. "Come with me to say goodbye, then."

He went; he needed some peace and quiet to quell the peevish storm brewing inside, the storm with Lily's and Potter's names written all over it.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

By the time Lucius arrived to the meeting room where the Governing Board convened, all eleven of the other governors were present, seated around a long wooden table. They all blandly raised their eyes to him, not speaking, evidently feeling ill at ease with the day's business at hand. Lucius made a mental note to be early from now on, then smiled pleasantly as he approached the lone empty chair.

"Good morning, fellow governors. As I presume you know, I am Lucius Malfoy."

There was a general, muted greeting from around the table, almost as if they expected he'd be gone by the end of the day, there was no point in being too chummy. The governor at the head of the table, a big bruiser of a woman, cleared her throat.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm Lorraine Newcastle, the chairperson. Let's be honest, we all know why we're here today." Her voice was surprisingly mellow, soothing almost. "I regret that your first meeting with us, er, may turn out to be your last."

_Have these people no sense of decorum?_ Lucius lamented inwardly, though he forced a tight smile. "I understand your position, Miss Newcastle—"

"_Mrs_. Newcastle," she interrupted to correct him.

"Forgive me, _Mrs_. Newcastle. However, I fail to see why you'd consider reinstating Mr. Breen simply because he displays a change of heart. It's only natural that he misses a job he performed admirably for so many years, but I'm sure he wouldn't deliberately sabotage my position." _He'd damned well better not, anyway_.

"I guess we'll find out," she said. "I wouldn't think Mr. Breen capable of malice, of course. He should be here any minute, probably bringing a reporter from the _Daily Prophet_."

Lucius took his seat. He felt incredibly nervous waiting for the shoe to drop, wondering how successful he'd been in his second go at Breen. It seemed to have been successful yesterday, and no aurors had come knocking at the door…he wasn't likely to be arrested, then, but would these dimwits give Breen back his position? If it hadn't worked completely this time, he'd need the support of this governing body on his side. How might he sway their attitudes to impartiality so they didn't all immediately vote the man back in, sending Lucius back to his hated job? And he dared not even think of Lord Voldemort's reaction if he were demoted, regardless of the fact that he'd have no control over it.

The man to his left spoke in a low tone. "Your father is Abraxas Malfoy, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. And you are…?"

"Kidus Chapman," said the gentleman, holding out a hand.

"Ah, Mr. Chapman," beamed Lucius, pumping the man's hand, feeling suddenly more secure. A potential ally! "My father has told me a lot about the soup kitchens you run for the homeless. He's most impressed by your selflessness."

"I couldn't do it without his generous donations," replied Chapman. He nudged the woman beside him and she glanced over. "Mary, doesn't Abraxas Malfoy contribute substantial amounts to your church? I thought you mentioned it."

"Yes, he does," answered Mary, wriggling uncomfortably, to Lucius' delight. Both she and Chapman would think twice before voting against the son of their benefactor! For all he knew, there might be others in the room who owed a debt of gratitude to a Malfoy as well.

Mary was spared any more interaction, for Ciro Breen walked in, a reporter at his heels, and nodded to the gathered group. He cast a frown down at Lucius, who presently occupied 'his' chair.

"Hello, Ciro, it's good to see you," drawled Lucius nonchalantly, his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

"Hello, Lucius," the man responded. He addressed the chairperson. "Lorraine, if I may?"

"Ciro, first I need to remind you that you _did_ retire of your own free will, and you _did_ nominate Mr. Malfoy to take your place. It's unusual, to say the least, for a board member to ask to come back under such circumstances." Her tone gave Lucius another shot of hope. It seemed she wasn't too keen on the ambivalence, either. "But I've—we've known you for years, so we agreed to hear you out."

Ciro approached the table to stand adjacent to Lorraine. "My friends, thank you for being here. I believe I was—"

_Don't say cursed! Please don't let him accuse me!_ Lucius prayed. He'd never been so apprehensive in his life, though till now he'd had no real reason to be. _Say what I told you to say!_

"—hasty in my decision." A hand went to his forehead as he crinkled his brow in a grimace of pain. "My, it's warm in here. If you'll excuse me." Breen unclasped his long cloak, swirled it off, and laid it on the table in front of him, oblivious to the horrified stares of everyone present. Ciro Breen was wearing only a pair of bright blue cotton pajamas!

"Ciro!" Lorraine gasped. "Your robes are…uh…"

"Beautiful, aren't they? I picked them out especially for today. What was I saying? Oh, yes, I'd like a chance—" This time both hands grasped the sides of his head and he nearly doubled over. "I keep getting this terrific headache. I wanted to say that I'd like… to be a farmer." As if by magic the look of excruciating pain melted from his face. "I love the sound chickens make, don't you?"

No one moved or spoke. Every eye was riveted on the apparently disturbed old man, every mind contemplating the same thing: senility.

Breen prattled on, feeding their ruminations. He seemed to have forgotten he'd come to get his job back. "Brawk! Ba-caw, ba-caw," he cackled in a poor imitation of a chicken. "Isn't that a glorious sound?"

Lorraine reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ciro, are you feeling well?"

"Never better since that headache finally left!" declared Breen. "Best thing I ever did was resign so I could move to the country to live on a farm."

"But you called us here to reconsider giving you back the governorship."

Breen let out an exclamation as a jolt of agony shot through his head. "No, no I don't want it!" he shouted. The pain ebbed away. "I want chickens." He flapped his arms and smiled. "Ba-caw." In another instant he'd snatched up his cloak and toddled from the room.

Not surprisingly, the reporter was furiously writing down every word, gesture, and animal noise, to Lucius' secret relief. He'd been terribly worried over whether his second attempt at the Imperius would work; evidently it had. For show, he affected a posture of concern as he leaned forward, noting the gaping mouths of his associates.

"I hate to be the one to point it out, but I believe Mr. Breen could use a holiday. Perhaps moving to the country might, ah, _hasten_ his recovery." For an extra show of sympathy, he addressed the reporter. "Is it really necessary to put this in the paper to humiliate the poor man and his family? Dementia is no laughing matter in the best of cases, and Mr. Breen appears to be deteriorating rapidly."

"Too true, Mr. Malfoy," concurred Mrs. Newcastle, rising to her feet. "We'd all appreciate it if you simply report that Mr. Breen has decided that governorship is no longer his desire."

The reporter sneered. "You've got to be kidding. A story like this doesn't roll around every day." Before anyone could respond, he bolted from the room and was gone.

Several of the governors groaned and grumbled their outrage, upset not only for Ciro, but for their inability to stop the embarrassing story. One of the men who hadn't yet spoken said, "Maybe if we all go to the _Prophet_ and demand they not run the story—"

"Excellent idea!" seconded a woman across the table from him.

"I disagree," said Lucius quietly. A heavy silence settled over the room as every head turned his way, a few registering subdued hostility. "If we demand they retract the story, they'll retaliate by trying to cast aspersion on the whole Board. It seems to me more discreet and prudent to appeal to the editor, whom I happen to know. I'm relatively certain he'll listen to reason."

Lorraine piped up, "Well then, by all means talk to him, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius got up, nodded to the group, and made for the door. "I'll contact you after I've spoken to him." With another slight inclination of the head, he left.

Yes, he'd talk to the editor, he'd get the story pulled or at least severely modified if he had to placidly threaten the man with dire consequences of no specified type; that was no problem. Withdrawal of Malfoy support or generating Malfoy displeasure could easily damn a business to ruin, anyone with sense knew that. And if they didn't, they'd find out.

Lucius had accomplished his goal of discrediting the old man in the eyes of his former peers, he didn't feel the need to publicize it to the world. In fact, the fewer people who learned of Breen's 'condition', the better. Less chance of suspicions arising. He would now be fully accepted as governor, that's all he wanted. He smiled to himself as he walked along; he could become accustomed to the euphoria of getting what he wanted.


	37. Chapter 37Hallmark

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Seven

(A/N: This chapter was labeled simply because if the chaotic number of hits per chapter are any indication, people are getting lost, forgetting where they left off—which is understandable with such a long story, so many chapters. The name acts as a landmark of sorts.)

"I'm serious, James."

"No, you're not, you're Lily," the young man answered, laughing out loud. The girl was not impressed. "Come on, it's a joke."

"That's what I'm afraid of, that it was all a joke! When you asked Severus for a truce, I thought you meant it, that you were acting mature and not just saying it for my benefit," she huffed, scuttling out of reach when he tried to put an arm around her.

"I meant it," James stated rather feebly.

"Is that why I heard you tell your dear friend Sirius that you hoped I bought your act?" Lily's lips pinched into a hard line, her eyes furious.

Potter froze in place, his mind reeling, trying to remember saying it. Sure, he still despised Snivellus, but he didn't feel the need to seek him out or anything, and he'd be true to his word not to attack in the unlikely event they did ever meet again. When had he said—then it hit him and he laughed again, this time from relief mingled with amusement. "Lily, that was something totally different."

"Like what?"

"I don't think now is the time to tell you."

"Fine," she clipped, striding to the door. Her hand rested on the knob. "When you grow up, let me know."

"Lily!" James bolted across the room to slam the door before she could escape, then he stood in front of it to block her way. "Please trust me."

"Why should I? You won't trust me enough to tell me what all this nonsense is about."

In a fit of agitation, James fumed inside. It was a surprise and she was ruining it! Okay, if that's what she wanted, he'd give it to her. "I didn't realize you considered a proposal of marriage to be nonsense."

"Pro—proposal?" she stammered, utterly floored.

"I sneaked out and bought a ring. Sirius was helping me find a romantic hiding place where I could spring it on you when you overheard us," James said, expecting an apology.

What he got was a thudding, pounding knock on the door, making both of them jump. He turned around to answer it. A fellow with dark, curly hair and a most peculiar expression on his broad face, surly and haughty at once, stood waiting outside.

"Yes?" said James.

"Are you James Potter?" the man drawled, as if he only required confirmation of what he already knew.

"Yes," James repeated. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I wish to speak to you." He glimpsed Lily in the room beyond them and added, "Alone."

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her," James replied, beckoning him in. This would show Lily he had no secrets from her. Although visitors were not uncommon at the Potter home, he was certain he'd never laid eyes on this stranger before, yet there was an air about this man that seemed familiar. Whether that familiarity was good or bad had yet to be determined. Those piercing blue eyes…why did they remind him of something in the back of his mind, something just out of reach?

"I'll get right to the point, Potter. It's come to my ma—my attention that you've been invited to join Dumbledore's little group crusading against Lord Voldemort. Have you enlisted with him?"

James tried to surreptitiously wave Lily away when she came over to stand beside him. He already didn't like the bent of the conversation. This odd person knew things he shouldn't know, but how? "Why would that interest you? Are you a member of the Order?"

The dark haired stranger let out an involuntary snort, then sneered. "Hardly. I've come to offer you something better. You're a pureblood, albeit a blood traitor, but you can be redeemed by fighting for what's right, for pureblood supremacy. When we overcome, you'll hold a position of power over the riffraff beneath us."

"How dare you come into my house calling me a traitor?" James exclaimed.

"And what 'riffraff' are you speaking of?" Lily demanded.

The man cast a disparaging glance at the girl. "That would be _you_, mudblood."

James pushed her aside to stand in front of her. "Get out of my house."

With a shrug, the man remarked, "I suppose if she's that important to you, the mudblood could sign up with the dark lord, too, if she keeps her place and does what she's told. As long as she's willing to dispose of her own kind, there's hope for her. This is your only chance to fight on the winning team, Potter. I'd consider very carefully if I were you."

"You're not me." James went for his wand, but the Death Eater, anticipating it, was quicker. His own wand, steady in his hand, pointed at them as he backed toward the open door.

"I'll give you one more opportunity—will you enlist with us?"

"Never!"

A blast from the intruder's wand struck James in the chest, not a killing blow, only enough to drop him to his knees, wheezing. "Are you sure?"

Suddenly Lily had her wand out, casting a spell at the Death Eater. It grazed his back, sending him pitching against the door frame, giving James time to recover sufficiently to draw his wand. Two hexes flew at the man together, propelling him spinning and stumbling onto the porch where he Disapparated.

Lucius Apparated outside Voldemort's castle, his back aching from a searing burn, his chest and side throbbing from a double stun not cast powerfully enough to knock him out. Silently he cursed the mudblood bitch as he removed the enchantments on his appearance. He should've taken Bellatrix with him, no one was better at dueling, and he wouldn't have been outnumbered. Then again, she would have killed them both without offering Potter a spot on Voldemort's team as the master had ordered, although _why_ the master had ordered it, he had no idea. At the moment he wouldn't care if Bella murdered them viciously.

He entered the castle to find Bellatrix, as usual, waiting for him. The master must command her to wait for those he sends out, he decided. Either that or she simply enjoyed the look of defeat on their faces when they returned. That seemed more likely.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well what?" he retorted, hoping she didn't notice the slight limp. To say he was not in good humor would be an understatement.

"Limping? Little Potter-baby hexed Lucy-wucy?" she cooed, then burst into cackles.

"I hate you," he muttered. "It was two against me, that redheaded mudblood was there."

"I guess I didn't train you right," Bella sighed, shaking her head. "I _assumed_ that when you got good enough to duel against _me_, you could handle two pathetic nobodies." She sighed again, long and loud.

"I could have!" Lucius snapped back. "I left because Potter refused to join us, I saw no reason to stick around while more of them showed up!"

Bella rolled her eyes, which infuriated him even more. Damn it all, if he hadn't been blindsided he'd have easily beaten both of them! They took advantage when he was unable to fight! Good sense overtook a rush of pride compelling him to prove himself to Bellatrix, which was not a position he wanted to be in. She'd taught him to duel, she could still wipe the floor with him, regardless of how skilled he'd become.

"Bella, is the master in there? He expects me to report in."

She nodded slowly, almost as if—no, it couldn't be—as if she didn't really want him to go in, which of course was ridiculous. He'd failed, he would be punished…she _lived_ for that. Lucius swept past her into the larger room.

"Master, I've returned from…" His words petered out. There was no one there. He did a full circle, looking around. "Bella, I thought you said he was here!"

She was in the doorway now, watching him with those heavy-lidded eyes that most men found sultry and he found malevolent. "He's still busy with something you wouldn't understand."

Lucius cocked his head, raising his eyebrows. While he'd not been the most exemplary pupil at Hogwarts, Bella had certainly not outshone him. "And what, pray tell, might _you_ understand that I _don't_?"

"Horcruxes," she smirked. Her smug expression grew wide as she studied Lucius' bewilderment. Few witches or wizards had ever heard of a horcrux, let alone had them explained by the greatest dark lord ever to live.

"What is that?"

"When he's ready, he'll tell you…or not," she answered.

In that instant Lord Voldemort Apparated opposite Lucius, drawing his attention away from Bella. The young man fell to his knees for the hem-kissing routine, then rose, ready to explain his actions. He didn't get the opportunity. The dark lord gripped his chin as he stared into his eyes, and Lucius dared not use Occlumency on anything that had happened this day. He felt the master probing his mind, violating his memories, but he stood solidly, enduring. At last Voldemort let go, his red eyes slits of rage.

"So, Potter declined to enter my service, did he?"

"Yes, my lord." He wanted to justify himself somehow, yet he deemed no words adequate.

"He dared _defy_ me! He would choose Dumbledore's wretched group over ME!" bellowed Voldemort in his high, terrible voice that made the other two in the room quake. "And _you_, Lucius, dared offer a filthy mudblood the chance to become one of my Death Eaters?"

"Well, no—I said she could work for you, master, I didn't mean as a Death Eater."

Voldemort apparently wasn't listening. He'd seen the memory, that was enough for him. "And that piece of garbage turned you down—a _mudblood_ turned you down!" he screeched.

"No, master, she didn't! Potter was the one—"

"_Crucio_!"

Lucius fell to the floor, his limbs flailing wildly, the screams that tore from his throat echoing off the walls to resound in his ears. The pain went on at length, ripping through every cell of his body until he was sure he was shredding into pieces. Voldemort lifted his wand.

"Why didn't you kill them, Malfoy?"

Panting, trying to calm the sobs enough to talk, Lucius moaned, "They hexed me at once, my lord, it set me off guard. I thought it prudent to leave."

"_Crucio_."

He writhed in agony for what seemed eternity, until nothing existed in the past or present, nothing but this hellish torment as his only companion. His throat was raw from screaming, yet still the screams came, barking out in rough, tortured gasps. Every so often Voldemort lifted the wand to berate him, only to slap him with yet another Cruciatus, delighting in the anguish before him. Nothing compared to the pleasure of feeding off another's suffering; nothing tasted quite so sweet.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was an unpretentious potions shop in Diagon Alley that he'd passed a hundred times and been in dozens of times in his life. Severus hadn't ever dreamed one day he'd work here. He checked the sign above the door once more to be sure it was the right place, then went on in. Just as he remembered, the place was dark and smelled of dried fungus and herbs, a pleasant enough odor.

The proprietor, an elderly woman with long white hair pulled into a ponytail, came out of the back room where Severus spied a cauldron bubbling. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Albus Dumbledore sent me, he said you have—"

"Oh, you're the lad Albus told me about! Stephen, is it?" She came forward to get a good look in the dim light.

"Severus," he said, feeling silly for correcting her.

"Well, come on back. I can't hire any old Joe Blow off the street, so I'm hoping Albus wasn't exaggerating. Claims you're a genius, you know."

"Does he?" Severus blinked in surprise. He peered into the cauldron, noting the odor, the color and texture, the ingredients on the table. "Morning sickness remedy?"

The woman smiled. "Good eye, Sebastian."

"Severus," he whispered to no one, for she wasn't listening.

"My name is Philana, I suppose you already knew that. I'll need to test you out before I hire you, so I'm going to ask you to make a potion for me." She pursed her lips, gazing heavenward. "Something not too hard."

"I'd appreciate a challenge, Miss Philana, I don't mind difficult work."

"Don't be so formal, Sylvester. Call me Philana," she encouraged with a kind smile.

_Maybe I should call you Phyllis_, he grumped inwardly. How hard could it be to get his name right? On the plus side, eventually she'd run out of names or hit on the correct one. "Yes, ma'am."

"How about a remedy for an elevated heart rate? I've got books for you to refer to, don't be shy about using them." She pointed up at a shelf a good eight feet off the floor where only levitation would suffice to bring one down.

Severus glanced at the books, then back at Philana. "Would _stuppa palpare_ be alright? Or _sleeuw hairto_?"

"Yes," she answered, obviously surprised. "Either one is fine. You'll find the recipes in the manuals."

"I don't need the formula, thank you," said Severus, already getting his bearings, searching out the ingredients from labeled jars, bins, and bags lining three walls. Quickly he gathered everything he'd need, double checked by running down the list in his head, then set a clean cauldron in front of him.

Philana observed him in silence, impressed by his familiarity with the subject. She'd decided on the heart potion only seconds before saying it, there was no way the boy could have prepared in advance, yet there he was carefully measuring, cutting, weighing as if he'd done it a thousand times.

"Selwyn, why are you bruising the hawthorn berries?" she asked. Not that she necessarily disagreed, she merely wanted his opinion.

"They're green on one side, not fully ripe, probably picked in the early season; they're not as strong, so this releases more of their essence," Severus explained. _She ought to know this, shouldn't she?_

"Just so," she smiled, nodding.

_So she's quizzing me_, Severus thought, not averse to the idea. Frankly, he found it stimulating to be in the company of someone who understood and appreciated subtle differences—hell, who appreciated potions at all! Professor Slughorn was the only other person he knew with as much skill, unless he counted Mr. Malfoy, and he wasn't entirely sure how far the man's knowledge went. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, I noticed you added the water after toasting the berries. I've never seen that done." Translation: you screwed up and put the fire under it before adding liquid.

Severus' head bobbed in agreement. "It forms a slight charcoal coating that helps with any stomach upset, and also to pull out toxins. It doesn't affect the potency."

Philana made a mental note to ask the boy's professor from Hogwarts. He was a renowned Potions Master, he'd know if Sewell was fibbing, though from the intense look on the young man's face, she didn't believe he was. Charcoal did have a soothing, calming effect on nausea, and it was used for removing toxins. It was easy enough to see he enjoyed what he was doing; by the care he demonstrated, one could deduce he took pride in his work. She pulled up a stool to sit while watching him, certain this was the lad to hire.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Hours had passed between the time Lucius left home and the time he arrived back, hunched over, unable to stand alone, leaning heavily on Bellatrix as they Apparated together on the porch. She barely managed to hold him upright long enough to knock on the door; it opened and he fell inside. Bella took out her wand to levitate him into the first parlor, where she dropped him unceremoniously on the couch with scarcely a whimper from him, his voice too far gone to make a sound.

Sisidy squealed at the horror of seeing Master Lucius in this state. She popped out, returning momentarily with Master Malfoy, who took in the scene at a glance. He hurried over to his son.

"What happened to him, Bellatrix?"

For once she had nothing snide to say, perhaps because this wasn't Lucius, it was his father. She'd grown up hearing about Abraxas Malfoy, the strict, cruel master of the manor. As such, she'd learned to respect him, even fear him the tiniest bit, while finding his persona undeniably attractive. Not like the dark lord, of course! _He_ was everything, he—

"Bella! What happened?"

"He was _crucio_'d," she said, sitting down daintily and crossing her legs. "He failed in his assignment, so he was punished. Repeatedly."

Listening as he worked, Abraxas was in the process of feeling his son's bones and muscles for signs of trauma. Discovering the burn across his back, he chanted a healing spell over it. "Do you know of anything to reverse the effects of the Cruciatus?"

"No. The master knows, but he doesn't ever speak it, so we can't use it," she admitted ruefully. It amazed her to realize she really did wish to help Mr. Malfoy, though if she were honest with herself she'd acknowledge it was not altogether for Lucius' sake. "His throat is raw from screaming, maybe you can do something for that. The Cruciatus pain wears off over time."

Neither one had noticed Narcissa standing next to Sisidy in the doorway—not until she cried out in distress and ran to her husband's side. Before she formed a single word, she clung to him and burst into weeping.

Appalled to have his wife see him in this condition, Lucius managed to whisper huskily, "Honey, don't look at me like this."

"Lucius, what did they do?" she sobbed. Her tight embrace made him wince and pale.

"Narcissa, you're hurting him," said Abraxas softly, gently pulling her back. "I need you to help me. Go to my wife's study, bring the potion marked _Mucous Membranes_. Hurry."

Narcissa Disapparated, grateful to be of some assistance. Abraxas continued to recite incantations over his son, with some success. Lucius roused and moved his arms without the accompanying grimace of agony. When the young woman returned, Abraxas uncapped the vial and held it up for Lucius.

"Drink this, it'll soothe your throat and help heal it. I'm doing the best I can to counter the curse."

Lucius nodded and sipped at the liquid, one that astonishingly didn't taste like muddy brine a leper had soaked his feet in for two weeks. In fact, it was rather fruity. In a matter of minutes he felt the pain lessen substantially. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. At least he could speak now.

His father gave a tight smile, trying to hide his outrage. He didn't dare risk speaking ill of that devil-bastard Voldemort with Bellatrix here to carry word back to him, earning Lucius more torture. How he wished he possessed the skill to defeat that heinous, wicked shadow of a man! All he could do was focus on helping his son.

Lucius motioned to Narcissa, who came forward, unsure whether to touch him. He painstakingly sat up and opened his arms for her; she flew to him, to be engulfed in his love. "I'm okay, sweetheart. It's just pain, it'll go away."

"Why, Lucius? Why?" she insisted.

"It doesn't matter."

Here Bellatrix threw in her two cents' worth. "Buck up, Cissy. At least it wasn't the killing curse like the one that almost hit you at that café."

"How did you—Lucius, did you tell her?" No one answered; no one needed to. The answer crystallized in her mind before she'd finished asking the question. Bella knew because she'd _been_ there, she'd helped kill Edgar Bones and his family! The shock of the revelation made her want to throw up, yet she couldn't let Bella see her disgust. "Did you cast that curse at us, Bella?"

Her sister wiggled uncomfortably. "Not on purpose," she replied. "It kind of slid past when he moved…and anyway, it didn't hit you, so what are you complaining about?"

"It was you?" Lucius choked out roughly, angrily. "All this time you knew I was trying to find out who did it! You could've told me!" One hand went to his neck, massaging to no effect.

"Stop being a baby. It was an accident, get over it," sniped Bella. She rose from the chair. "I need to get back. Next time the master gives you a task, Lucius, don't screw it up. Goodbye, Cissy. Abraxas."

"Bellatrix," said Abraxas curtly.

"Bye, Bella," Narcissa intoned, wishing she'd leave already. As soon as she'd gone, Narcissa turned to Lucius. "Bella was there murdering that family! Is that what you were doing today?"

"No, Narcissa," he answered truthfully. "I told you I'm not like that. I was ordered to try to recruit someone who didn't want to join. When he refused, as we all knew he would, I got punished."

Sitting beside him, Narcissa buried her face on his chest. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that he should suffer so much! There was nothing she could do to alleviate his pain, nothing to end this life of misery caused by the dark lord. All she could do was love him, which to her mind was precious little, not nearly enough to stop the sobs wrenching from her throat.


	38. Chapter 38

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Eight

Severus cracked open one eye and let out a startled yelp as his heart shot into his mouth and he leaped upright. His reaction frightened Tina, who jumped off his bed with a piercing squeal. Panting slightly, his heart rate beginning to slow, he irritably addressed the girl.

"What were you doing sitting on my bed watching me?"

"Mum said not to wake you cuz you're working so hard and need to sleep," Justina answered, coming forward once more to perch on the bed beside him.

Not satisfied with the response, he frowned at her. "So why'd you wake me?"

"I didn't mean to," the girl mumbled, staring down at her hands.

He heaved a disgruntled sigh. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, though he flopped down on the pillow nonetheless. His sister didn't move. Now that he was fully awake and thinking clearly, her presence gave him pause; she was affectionate, yes, but not clingy. What _was_ she doing here? "Tina, what's wrong?"

"Mum won't go to her appointment at St. Mungo's."

Severus sat up again. "What do you mean?"

"She's supposed to go every Wednesday and Saturday, only a lot of times when you're not here she misses the Wednesday ones, and now she says she's too tired," the girl explained, tears welling in her eyes. They spilled over to trail down her cheeks, and she began to weep in earnest.

"Come here." She scooted over to him and he pulled her closer with one arm around her. "I'll go talk to mum, don't worry."

In a high pitched voice teetering on hysteria, Tina cried, "I don't want her to die like dad!" A new rush of tears followed.

"I know." Now both arms enclosed her shaking figure. Silently he berated his mother for not doing what she ought to. Didn't she realize her children needed her? At the same time, he felt guilty for his anger. Mum was sick a good deal of the time, it was hard for her to find the energy for the simplest tasks. He felt like an ogre for being upset with her. "Let me go talk to her, I'll make her go."

He got up, peeled the child's arms from around his waist, and pulled on his pants and shirt. Justina followed at his heels. He found his mother lying on the couch.

"Mum, are you alright?"

Eileen looked up at him and attempted a smile. "Just tired, son."

"You need to go to your doctor's appointment. I'll take you if you want." He knelt down beside her, the same surge of emotion and fear that had gripped his sister washing over him.

"I don't want to, Severus. It makes me so ill, and the nausea potion doesn't help anymore."

"I'll find a new one," promised Severus, wriggling a hand underneath her back to sit her up. "I'll go with you. Come on."

Too weak to resist, Eileen let him pull her up to her feet. He led her to the fireplace and took some floo powder in his hand. To the girl who stared anxiously after them he said, "Once mum is in therapy, I'll come home, then when she's finished I'll go get her."

Justina nodded her understanding. Momentarily the two were gone, leaving the child alone. She ran to the window hoping to catch sight of Julius, who'd gone out hours ago, but the street was empty. She crouched on a chair, knees drawn up to her chest, to wait.

Half an hour later, Severus arrived back through the floo network; Tina was still huddled on the chair, but she hopped up immediately.

"Where's Julius?" he asked, glancing around.

Tina shrugged. "He went out to play a couple hours ago."

"Not with those ruffians on the next block?' Severus queried in alarm.

"Prob'ly. He doesn't mind anymore cuz dad's not here to make him," she said rather matter-of-factly. "When you were at school he played with them all the time."

Severus swore softly, shaking his head, his face an unreadable mask. Their father had forbidden the children to hang around with certain undesirables in the area, and while his violent method of enforcing his orders had been effective, the command had evidently fallen by the wayside now that he was gone. He didn't want to discipline his brother, but if he didn't, who would? Mum wasn't able…he wished the whole lot of trouble would simply go away. With dad dead, mum sick, work to attend to, and now this, Severus was on the verge of an emotional implosion. He'd never had to be the rock, the one the family depended on; he'd never realized how overwhelming it could feel.

"Stay here, I'll go find him," he told his sister. "Lock the door."

After he went out, he waited for the sound of the bolt sliding into place before he removed his wand, set it on his flattened palm, and said, "Find Julius." The wand spun around to aim in the direction of the nearby schoolyard; he pocketed it as he strode along purposefully. It wasn't far, already he heard the shouts and laughter carrying on the air.

There he was, shaggy and disheveled, sitting on the lowest rung of the monkey bars with two boys who looked to be a good three years older standing in front of him, and he had a cigarette dangling from his mouth. There appeared to be no one else on the playground. Cramming his ire down to manageable levels, Severus marched toward him, his black eyes beacons of fury. Julius noticed him only when Severus roughly thrust aside one of his companions, snatched the cigarette from his lips, and crushed it under his heel.

Julius tried to flee but his brother gripped his bicep in a firm grasp. "Let me go!"

"Let him go," said one of the punks, a boy with thin blond hair.

The other, the one Severus had pushed, added insolently, "Or else."

Obviously the kid had no concept of good sense or timing. Severus whirled on him, his words dripping venom. "Or else _what_?" Other than the malice shooting from his eyes, his face remained completely blank, frightening in its lack of expression.

When the boy merely gaped at him, Severus turned back to his brother and shook him harshly. "You go home right now, Julius. This isn't over." Wide-eyed and quaking, Julius took off at a sprint. Severus then addressed the two remaining boys, unwilling to waste unnecessary time or speech on them. "You're a bad influence. Stay away from my brother—and my sister."

"What're you gonna do if we don't?" sneered the blond.

"Funny you should ask," Severus replied in a deadpan voice, his own wicked sneer creeping across his face. Before either one knew what was happening, Severus glanced around quickly, ascertaining they were alone, grabbed each boy by the shoulder, and Disapparated. They reappeared on the bank of the river, precariously close to dropping in. One hard shove sent both boys toppling head first into the filthy, stagnant water.

They tossed and flailed pathetically trying to stay afloat, screaming with fear and indignation, sputtering and splashing with eyes closed against the foulness of the water.

"Try standing up, morons," Severus shouted from his spot on the bank, arms crossed, looking almost amused. If he weren't so angry, he would've enjoyed this a whole lot more.

The boys got their feet under them, to discover they were only in waist-deep water. Dragging the mucky water from their eyes with their fingers, they waded for the bank, carefully giving Severus wide berth, then pulled themselves out and stood dripping and shivering.

"How did you do that?" the blond exclaimed, terrified. "How did we get here?"

"You walked, of course. You decided to go for a swim," smirked Snape. "Nobody will believe you if you tell strange tales, they'll call you liars." Here his voice hardened. "This was nothing. You don't want to find out what I'm capable of. Now you'll stay away from my family, won't you?"

Both lads nearly dislocated their necks from nodding so vigorously. Once more Severus made sure no one was around, then he disappeared before the boys' eyes.

He Apparated in a dark corner of the garden and used his wand to unlock the back door. "Julius, get in here!"

Tina's head popped up over the back of the couch, watching warily as Julius slinked in from their room, head down, shoulders hunched. He stopped and peered up at his brother, lips quivering, chest heaving as if he were about to cry.

"What would dad do, Julius?" Severus questioned unnecessarily. They both knew.

"Whip me," his brother squeaked.

"That's what I should do," said Severus, causing the lad to practically convulse with panic. "But I'll give you one more chance. If I find out you're smoking or hanging out with those kids or getting in any trouble at all, I'll do it. I don't want to, but I will. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Julius murmured. He stood there looking so forlorn it was all Severus could do to be strong, not to be the one to break. Then suddenly Julius pitched himself at Severus, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad, don't hate me."

"I don't hate you, dunderhead," said Severus quietly, patting his back. He didn't like threatening his brother, especially since one day he might be forced to carry out his threat. Being a parent figure truly sucked!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius was on time for his very first official meeting of the Board of Governors…at least the very first one not involving possibly kicking him _off_ the Board. Technically, he was early, half an hour early in spite of having spent the entire morning researching every member of the Board, their families, and blood status. Thankfully, while several were halfbloods, there wasn't a Muggleborn among them.

He positioned himself at the head of the table facing the door in order to monitor who came in, and as each member arrived he greeted them warmly by name. When the man who'd formerly occupied this particular chair came in, he stared as all the others had done, then scowled.

"I believe that's my seat, Mr. Malfoy."

Projecting an air of absolute innocence, Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware we had assigned seating, Mr. Whiner." He didn't budge.

The man gritted his teeth as he moved over to Malfoy's empty chair. "It's _Wenner_," he snapped.

"Hmm. My mistake."

The meeting was called to order by Lorraine Newcastle promptly at two o'clock. "First order of business: collecting funds for Hogwarts for another year. Albus Dumbledore said there's very little left over, so we need to get all the pledges we can."

Lucius knew all about the pledge drives. Ever since he was old enough to understand, he'd heard his father talk about that blasted worst-thing-ever-to-happen-to-Hogwarts Dumbledore and the preposterous changes he'd made at the school, beginning with permitting mudbloods to attend. Moreover, he'd broadened the old 'scholarship' policy to include all students; now, regardless of ability to pay or intellect that might win a scholarship, all students received free tuition, room, and board. To top it off, funds were available for destitute families to help purchase books, robes, and assorted necessary supplies. As such, the governors had become agents for drumming up donations in the community, starting with Abraxas Malfoy.

"On behalf of the Malfoy family, I'd like to contribute twenty thousand galleons." Everyone stopped to look at Lucius, flabbergasted and delighted at once. "Of course, I'd like to stipulate that the money be used only for purebloods. Oh, and halfbloods, I suppose." The expressions of his companions changed to downright uncomfortable.

"You can't do that!" exclaimed Wenner.

Lorraine, being the chairperson, took it upon herself to enlighten the new member. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm not sure that's…proper. Dumbledore would have a fit."

"It's my money, isn't it?" Lucius rationalized, flashing her a smile. "Shouldn't I be allowed to determine where it goes?"

"It's just that he stresses equality among the students."

Lucius stared blankly at her. "Well, that's just asinine. I'd hardly consider a _mudblood_ equal to a pureblood." He paused, recalling his days at Hogwarts. Dumbledore didn't seem overly concerned with 'equality' when it came to how teachers—himself included—treated Slytherin students. Judging by the old man's actions, one might conclude he cared only for Gryffindor, not quite qualifying as 'fair' or 'equal'. "Regardless of whether our illustrious Headmaster disagrees, _we_ are the governors. _We_ determine how to manage the budget, and if that means earmarking funds for a particular group, we are authorized to do so. Am I correct?"

"Well, yes, when you word it that way," Lorraine conceded. Twenty thousand galleons was no small amount, and there were plenty of halfbloods who could benefit as well as purebloods.

"It doesn't seem right, though," Mary said quietly. Gentle murmurings around the table tended to agree with her.

Kidus Chapman winked at Lucius, then smiled at his group of peers. "What harm can come of it? There are a lot of poor folk of every stripe, and if Malfoy wants to help some of the needy purebloods and halfbloods, why should we complain? We'll be collecting sufficient donations from businesses and rich folk to take care of the Muggleborns as well. No one is going to suffer."

"It's the principle of the thing," insisted Wenner.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Perhaps it would be best if I withdraw my offer. I dislike causing discord among us."

Lorraine stood up. Donations like this didn't come along every day—or year—and she'd be damned if she'd let it go without a fight. "People, let's be practical. Mr. Malfoy has the right to designate how his donation is utilized, even if some feel it's, er, bigoted—not that I'd make such an accusation, Mr. Malfoy," she hurried to add. "To be fair, we'll vote on whether or not to accept the money under his conditions. Show of hands—how many wish to accept it?"

Seven hands went up.

"He can't vote!" protested Wenner, gesturing at Lucius, whose hand was in the air, a victorious smugness curling his lips.

"He _is_ a governor, Mr. Wenner," Lorraine reminded him. "That's settled, seven to five. Thank you very much, Mr. Malfoy, for your more than generous donation."

"It's my pleasure," Lucius replied smoothly. "You know, I had an idea of how we might effectively organize to canvass the community in collecting pledges…"

"Oh, Lord," mumbled Wenner, rolling his eyes.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus picked up the bit of parchment lying on his dresser, unrolled it, and read:

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of_

_ Udo Nott_

_ and_

_ Fidelia Zabini_

_to be held at the Nott family Manor on_

_the 15__th__ of August, 1978, at 12 noon._

He stopped reading to snicker once more at the name. _Udo_. No wonder he insisted on being called _Nott_! He'd received the invitation a month ago and promptly forgotten about it with all the things he was juggling. Even time with Glenna had been cut back because of work, then the nights he'd spent inventing a stronger potion for nausea for his mother. Today was the fifteenth, how had time gotten away from him so quickly?

By the time he'd finished dressing in his only good robes, the clock had snaked its way to eleven-thirty. He took his leave of the family, then Apparated over to Glenna's house where she stood waiting for him on the porch, tapping one foot impatiently.

"I was starting to wonder if you were coming," Glenna said with an injured air.

"Why wouldn't I come?" he asked, stepping over to kiss her.

"You made it pretty clear you don't like weddings," she replied, tossing her head.

_Oh, not again!_ "We need to go, Glenna. Hold my hand." Moments later they Apparated to the Nott Manor. He'd been here on several occasions over the last year, yet each time he was surprised how large and elegant the house was. Not compared to Malfoy Manor, of course, but more grandiose than Nott's casual demeanor would suggest. An elf led them through the house out into the spacious back garden where rows of chairs lined a center aisle under an enormous canopy enchanted to blend in with the sky. The smell of fresh roses permeated the place. Nott was pacing about nervously, stopping now and again to speak with guests milling around.

"Hey, Sev, glad you could make it! Hi, Glenna." He pumped their hands.

Severus, used as he was to Nott's inability to say his full name, gave a little smirk. "I wouldn't miss it, _Udo_." His friend winced. "Might I inquire why you decided to marry? I didn't know you even had a girlfriend."

"I didn't," Nott confessed. "My parents set it up about six months ago, and after dad passed on… well, I have to go through with it. I can't let them down."

"Do you even know Fidelia?" asked Glenna, twisting and peering around in hopes of catching a glimpse of the bride, who evidently remained hidden in the house.

"Oh, yeah, we grew up together. I knew her from the time we were about six, but then she went off to Beauxbatons when I went to Hogwarts. She spent the last couple summers in France, too, so I haven't seen her for close to three years." He chewed his lip apprehensively, then shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "At least she's refined."

"_One_ of you ought to be," Severus remarked dryly.

Nott excused himself to greet other guests, so the couple seated themselves to wait. From the corner of his eye Severus peeked at Glenna. He hadn't really wanted to escort her here, what with her hinting at the idea of marriage every so often, but he didn't have a choice. She'd received an invitation, too, he couldn't very well come without her. Anyway, they were here…

It wasn't long before everyone took their places and the ceremony began. Fidelia Zabini presented an absolutely ravishing figure in her snowy, billowing gown, her dark brown hair pulled up to show off her long neck and high cheekbones. She glided down the aisle on the arm of her father, every bit the cultured young lady Nott had proclaimed her to be. Judging from his dumbstruck countenance, he hadn't expected such a stunning bride, and judging from the leer that followed, he was definitely looking forward to the wedding night.

After the exchange of vows and requisite congratulations of the couple, everyone headed inside for the reception. Glenna, her eyes shining, looked up at Severus. "Wasn't that beautiful?"

"Um, yeah, I guess," he hedged. _Where's Nott when I need him to get Glenna off my back?_ There, across the room, the young man in question was snuggling up to his bride as she giggled.

"They seem very happy," Glenna observed.

"He should be, he finally gets to have sex," Severus answered without thinking.

Glenna turned on him fiercely. "Is that the only reason you're with me?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course not."

"Lovely ceremony, huh?" said Mulciber, barging up to stand beside them, draping an arm over each of them, a glass of what appeared to be firewhiskey in his hand. It spilled over the rim, ran down his hand, and dripped onto Severus' robes. "I got here just as it began." He looked over meaningfully at Glenna as he added, "I love weddings. A time for joyful beginnings."

"That's enough, Mulciber," Severus growled.

"What?" exclaimed the other, feigning surprise.

Severus ducked out from under his arm and deliberately heaved the other arm off of Glenna.

"Look-ee here, a school reunion!" crowed Regulus, trotting over to join the group. He held a glass of punch that sloshed onto the floor as he ran. He paused to gulp the remainder of it, smacked his lips, and sighed. "Good stuff! What do they put in here?"

"Probably liquor," grinned Mulciber, who swilled his in one shot. "Gotta get more."

Severus looked from his soon-to-be-inebriated schoolmates to his girlfriend. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll go home, I'm not feeling well."

As she turned to go, Severus caught her arm. "Glenna, did I do something?"

She shook her head, afraid to answer lest she burst into tears on the spot. He wouldn't understand, he was a stupid MAN, one who didn't understand _anything_ relating to emotions! She brushed his hand off and left him standing there as she walked away, not noticing Regulus sidling up to him to chat. By the time she'd made it outside, she felt another hand taking hold of hers.

"Severus, I want to go—" she barked before turning to see Mulciber, who immediately dropped her hand.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked. "The party's only started."

She shrugged and brushed at a tear straggling down her cheek. "Severus made it quite plain he doesn't want to be here, or anywhere that might remind me of wedded bliss, yet when I say I'm going he doesn't even try to stop me or come with me."

"Maybe he didn't think you'd really go."

"Then he doesn't know me very well, does he?" She sucked in a ragged breath, which helped to calm her a bit. "I'll see you, Jack."

Severus glanced out the veranda doors, away from Regulus babbling on about some nonsense, in time to see Glenna Disapparating and Mulciber staring stupidly at the spot where she'd been standing. A gleam of jealousy shot through him; he stormed out to confront the young man, only to find himself fixed with an undeniably caustic glower.

"Snape, you're such an arsehole!" Mulciber shoved past him and went in to where Regulus had collared Nott with an arm slung around his neck and was chattering blithely away.

In an instant Severus Apparated to Glenna's home; she hadn't yet gone inside. Instead she sat on the top stair leaning her back against the porch, eyes closed. He approached softly.

"Glenna," he said quietly. She opened her eyes but made no move to answer him. "I saw you leave."

"I'm surprised you noticed, even in light of the fact that I _said_ I was leaving."

"Are you angry about something?"

She shrugged and looked away. "More disappointed. And hurt."

He came down on one knee beside her. "Why?"

"You as good as said you didn't want to marry me when we were in school. I thought you'd change your mind, only today you acted like it was torture to even think of being with me! How am I supposed to feel knowing you don't love me?" she uttered, turning her body away, trying to hide the tears starting in her eyes anew.

He took her gently by the shoulders to spin her around to face him. "I care very much for you."

"That's not enough."

"We should wait till we're ready," Severus murmured.

With a surprising amount of spite that she managed to gather in her fragile state, Glenna retorted, "What you mean is we should wait to see if that mudblood Evans changes her mind and comes running to you!"

Shocked, Severus drew back, pushing down reflexive anger. "Don't call her that, and no, that's _not_ what I meant."

"What do you see in her? It's like she holds a spell over you. She treats you like crap, yet I wish you looked at me the way you look at her!" She dropped her face into her hands, breaking into weeping.

Unable to lie to her, unfamiliar with the subtleties of tact, and completely clueless on how to handle a crying woman, he said, "Just because I care for her doesn't negate my feelings for you."

Glenna lashed out, striking him in the chest with a balled fist. "I won't be part of your harem, and I don't want leftover love! I deserve better than going through my life in Lily's shadow!"

"Glenna, you're blowing this out of proportion," he said, trying to be reasonable.

She was not in the mood to be reasonable. She stood up and moved onto the porch, her words spoken with a bitterness she'd never directed his way before. "You're happy enough to take what I offer, but if she snapped her fingers you'd come running. You've never even told me you love me!" She whirled to go into the house.

"Lily, wait!"

Time froze. In that single moment, Severus relived his entire relationship with Glenna, realizing with a terrible squeezing sensation in his heart that he'd botched it, blown it as badly as it was possible to blow it with one single word.

"I didn't mean—" he tried to explain.

Glenna shot him a tear-filled scowl. "Don't bother, I know exactly what you meant. _I hate you!_" She ran into the house and slammed the door loudly behind her.


	39. Chapter 39

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Severus, are you alright?" Eileen edged up to his bed. Being a far cry from the most demonstrative mother in the world, she debated whether to sit beside him on the bed; her love for her son won out over her reservations, and she sat. "Severus?"

The young man rolled over, his long hair tangled and unkempt, his eyes bloodshot. "Yes, mum?"

"You're not sick, are you? You look terrible, you've barely gotten out of bed all week except to go to work, then you come right back here afterward. You haven't been eating, either, have you?"

"I'm fine," he muttered, burying his head in the pillow.

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" She laid a hand on his back. She could feel his ribs through the thin blanket.

"I'm an idiot, that's what," he growled, not facing her. It was easier not to have to face people. "I made Glenna dump me."

"What? How?"

He mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow.

Eileen pulled on his shoulder to forcibly roll him back round to her. Glenna dumped Severus? It seemed so unlikely as to be patently ridiculous. Glenna loved him, it was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears. Or had Severus done the unthinkable? She sucked in a gasp; had her son cheated on the girl? "Tell me."

"I called her Lily," he whispered, shame creeping over him for the thousandth time. "It was an accident."

That was bad. Very bad. What most surprised Eileen was the fact that Severus would even have Lily on his mind. They weren't friends anymore, they didn't speak. What could possess him to do such a thing? "Why were you thinking of Lily?"

"We were arguing about her. Glenna thinks I don't…have appropriate feelings for her, only for Lily. It just slipped out."

"Do you love Glenna?" she asked plainly.

Severus paused as if considering the ramifications of the question, then nodded almost imperceptibly, unable to say the words to his mother any more than he could say them to Glenna. The power of the word terrified him in ways he didn't fully understand. He couldn't bear to give himself up to it again, not after Lily had hurt him so badly by refusing to accept his apology, by crushing their friendship—and his love—under her heel like a loathsome bug.

"Have you tried to contact her?"

"I sent owls, but she won't answer. When I went to her house, her parents turned me away."

Eileen stroked his horribly disheveled, greasy hair. "She probably needs time to cool off. Keep trying, eventually you'll wear her down."

Severus grunted lightly in reply. His mother hadn't seen the look of fury and betrayal on Glenna's face. What was it about him that made him incapable of sustaining a real relationship? Maybe he truly was the freak the Gryffindorks had taunted him with. After all, loudmouth, bullying Potter had snared Lily in spite of his cruel, jackass demeanor…but then, he had money and 'nice' friends. Severus snorted in disgust.

"Severus, I have to leave for an appointment, I need you to watch the kids."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, sitting up. He didn't feel any better lying in bed brooding anyway.

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Eileen Apparated to Vertik Alley, a place she'd rarely come since running away all those years ago. It hadn't changed much. Nothing ever seemed to change much in the wizarding world. She looked around to get her bearings, then headed off to the _Cocoa Shoppe_, smiling as she recalled blissful moments there as a young girl with mummy and daddy, before she'd matured enough to call them mother and father, as was genteel.

The place was warm and cozy, and smelled of sugar and chocolate and cinnamon, exactly as she remembered; even the woman behind the counter looked familiar, albeit thirty years older. Eileen searched for an empty table and found one in a corner. She'd prefer to keep this meeting relatively clandestine, which sitting in the front window tended to preclude. She'd only just gotten comfortable when the man she'd come to meet made his appearance, a striking appearance, as always.

He bowed to Eileen before taking her hand and drawling, "Mrs. Snape, thank you for meeting me."

"Lucius Malfoy. What can I do for you?"

"You're looking well. May I ask how things are going?" Lucius seated himself opposite her, deliberately evading her question. Niceties must be observed first, and he honestly did want to know how she was, it bothered him that his best friend's mother was battling cancer, yet Severus had not, to date, even mentioned her illness to him. If it hadn't been for Glenna, he might not ever have found out! There ought to be a limit to secrecy, after all, at least among friends.

"Severus brewed me a stronger potion for nausea, so I'm feeling much better, thank you," she answered, naturally assuming her son had spoken to Lucius about her.

"Glad to hear it. Are you hungry? They make delightful cinnamon buns here," said Lucius, waving for the waitress across the room.

"I'll just have cocoa, thanks. It reminds me of my childhood," she admitted with a shy smile. "Lucius, why did you ask me here?"

He declined to respond until their orders were taken, to be immediately waved in with the waitress' wand. She collected the fee and moved on.

"I—I really don't know how to begin," Lucius said finally with a little laugh—a nervous laugh? "I've thought of it over the years, only it was hardly practical with you being married…"

"I don't follow."

He grimaced slightly in discomfiture, annoyed at himself for feeling silly and childish and unprepared…in short, for not being a proper Malfoy. Even in difficult situations, Malfoys kept their heads. "Do you remember what my father was like when you were engaged? Can you tell me?"

Taken aback by the peculiar request, Eileen blinked back her shock, then smiled. "Well, he looked a great deal like you, only with short hair. His parents wouldn't have sanctioned hair like yours. Not that there's anything wrong with it," she assured him quickly.

Lucius grinned, making him resemble the mischievous teenager he used to be. "He tried for years to discourage me from growing it out. Finally he gave up."

Eileen studied the smooth, boyish face before her, and in that instant she pictured Abraxas as she'd known him so long ago. There were small differences, but this youth could easily pass for a young Abraxas. Especially those gray eyes, the exact shade and shape… "His eyes sparkled like yours, like a young man in love—which I found out later he was, just not with me."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't blame him, Lucius. I was too young. If I'd been perceptive I'd have noticed he wasn't interested in me. He treated me like a younger sister during the time we spent together, and it wasn't only because of the constant chaperones. Hasn't your father ever mentioned any of this?"

"Not much," Lucius conceded. "A basic outline of events, that's all. He feels badly for abandoning you."

"He's like that, a true gentleman. It took a lot of courage on his part to break our engagement to marry your mother. Surely you must realize how ingrained the system of arranged marriages is in our society, the sense of duty."

Lucius nodded. How well he knew! If he hadn't found Narcissa to love, and if his father hadn't understood, he might have been forced into an arranged marriage, too.

"I admire him, even if at the time I despised him," Eileen said softly, swishing a spoon around in her cocoa. She hadn't yet taken a sip.

Not sure how to respond to her statement, Lucius sat quietly breaking off bits of his cinnamon bun and dropping them into his cocoa. It was something he'd done ever since he could remember, it seemed the natural thing to do. Right now it kept his hands busy while he waited for her to go on.

As he'd anticipated, she did go on, her eyes on the tablecloth as if watching a scene in a crystal ball. "I admired his strength of character right from the start. His own father, your grandfather, was a volatile, violent man who, shortly after we were betrothed, accused Abraxas of behaving indecently toward me." She let out a low, mirthless laugh, her eyes troubled. "It was ridiculous, of course. I fell on the ice of the pond; Abraxas tried to help me up, slipped, and fell on top of me. When we went into the manor, Mr. Malfoy beat him, right there in front of me. I can still see that cane with a snake head on the end."

Lucius looked up at her as a shiver ran down his spine. "I'm well acquainted with the cane in question," he remarked dryly.

She glanced over at him, catching and holding his eye. "Abraxas didn't even try to protest, like he knew it would do no good. From that I gathered this was a common occurrence, and in my childish fantasy I sought to save him." She gave another silent, mirthless laugh, pursing her lips as she shook her head. "I offered to brew him a potion for pain, but he pretended it didn't hurt. I suppose he was accustomed to making his own potions by that time, although looking back I believe he didn't want to feel indebted to me, probably since he was hoping not to marry me." Her lips spread into a wry smile. "Is that what you wanted to know, young Malfoy?"

"Yes…and no. Surely your parents could have arranged a suitable match. Why did you marry a Muggle?" He struggled not to let slip any expression of distaste at the word.

"I was humiliated. Going to school, having people talk behind my back—I couldn't take it, I ran away. Shortly after, Tobias' mother found me crouched in an alley. I was hungry and desperate, yet I knew if I used magic they'd find me, so I didn't. Even though the Snapes were poor, they took me in." To counter the argument forming on his lips, she said, "They're horrid people, I know, but at the time I didn't, nor did I know she only wanted me to be a free maid." A light blush crept over her cheeks. "If I hadn't been smitten immediately with their son, I'd have left. Tobias was so good to me, so caring. He needed me as much as I needed him."

"So what happened to him?" asked Lucius before he could stop the snide comment from escaping.

"I wanted to go back to my family, I missed them, so I told him I was a witch, but not until after we were married for over a year. He didn't understand, he had a Muggle view of evil witches with warts and such. It made life much more complicated, I admit."

_Now or never, Malfoy. Ask her what you came to ask._ "You cared for my father once. If you could marry him now, would you?"

Eileen fumbled and nearly dropped her cup, which slapped the edge of the table, spilling cocoa everywhere, including on her hand and sleeve. In an instant Lucius had his wand out _scourgifying_ the mess as he apologized profusely.

"Is that what this is all about? Is this meeting some half-baked attempt at matchmaking, Lucius?" she exclaimed.

Lucius grinned moronically, averting his eyes. "Yes."

"Your father has never—I repeat, NEVER—given any indication that he's interested in me. That, aside from the fact my husband's been in the ground only a few months, should tell you this is inappropriate," she stated, though it came off sounding more like a scolding.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled again, head down. Had he honestly thought Mrs. Snape would be captivated by his proposition? He'd hoped so, for Father's sake. And he wouldn't mind in the least having Severus as a step-brother. And Eileen would have access to the very best care available. "Father's so lonely. He never says so, but I can tell."

Eileen took one of his hands between her own. How strong yet soft it was, perfectly manicured. "Lucius, it's commendable, if misguided, for you to try to push us together. I can't replace your mother, and I'm certain Abraxas doesn't wish to. If he did, he'd have married again by now. Your father is a good man, there are hordes of witches who'd count themselves lucky to be noticed by him. You need to respect that it's not what he wants."

_It's what he needs_, Lucius insisted stubbornly. Father was always telling him to do this or that for his own good; why couldn't it work in reverse, with the_ son_ being the one calling the shots? "I apologize for wasting your time, Mrs. Snape. I hope I haven't offended you. It was ludicrous of me to presume to interfere in my father's life." _Or lack of one._

Eileen got up and patted his shoulder. "Your heart was in the right place. You're a sweet young man, Lucius, no matter what some other people say." She headed for the door, then turned back. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about this."

She'd just put one foot outside when Lucius jumped up and yelped, "What people? What do they say?" Too late, she'd Disapparated. In a sulky mood, he sat back down to drink his cocoa with the little bits of bloated cinnamon bun bobbing around on top.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Take a deep breath, calm. You can do this. You have to do this._ Glenna knocked feebly at the door, which was opened surprisingly quickly by an elf, who bowed as it greeted her, beckoning her inside.

"Festivities is started, Miss. Come, come."

"What festivities?"

"Miss Leora is being seventeen. Is coming of age," the elf explained. From the background the sounds of music and talking wafted in to the foyer.

"Oh, I only came to see Jack," Glenna started, intending to excuse herself and go, only the elf had popped out. It returned seconds later holding on to Jack's pantleg.

"Master Jack!" the elf declared proudly.

Mulciber stared in surprise, too flabbergasted to shake the elf off his leg or chide it for Apparating him without permission. If anything, he was tempted to kiss the grotesque thing for bringing him to Glenna. Until now he'd forgotten his standing order to immediately alert him if Glenna ever came by. "Thank you, Scuttles, you may go." The elf skipped away toward the music. "Glenna, it's good to see you." He hadn't invited her; had Leora? Probably not, she knew they weren't together.

"Jack, I'm sorry to intrude, I didn't know Leora's party was today. I can come back," she finished in a tiny voice. If she left now, she truly didn't know if she'd be able to gather the courage to return.

"Don't be silly, it's her party, not mine. It's boring." For the first time since catching sight of Glenna, a sickening thought struck him and he glanced around. "Didn't Snape come with you?"

She shook her head. _I won't cry. Severus doesn't deserve my tears._ "That's why I'm here. We broke up…I was hoping to talk to you." Her chin began to quiver and she bit down on her lip.

"Glenna, I feel bad for you." He couldn't force the words 'I'm sorry' from his mouth because _sorry_ was the exact opposite of how he felt. If he weren't able to see how much Glenna was suffering, he'd dance for joy. What was that odd sensation nagging at the back of his mind? Guilt? This was precisely what he'd been praying for, yet now that it had happened he felt somehow troubled for her sake.

"Is there someplace we can talk?" she asked.

"Sure, come on." He took her hand, his heart doing backflips, and led her to the front parlor where he pressed her down on the sofa and sat down beside her. "What did Snape do?" No doubt it was the prick's fault.

"He called me Lily," she said softly, then began to cry.

A stream of words ran through Jack's mind, none of them suitable for delicate ears. He knew it, he knew Snape wasn't over that mudblood bitch! Without thinking he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her as she wept on him. Even with the girl in tears, it felt incredible to hold her again—and she wasn't pushing him off or threatening him, either!

"What the hell?" boomed a harsh voice. "Who did you make cry, boy?"

Glenna lifted up, wiping at her tears. "Hello, Mr. Mulciber," she choked hoarsely. "Jack didn't do anything."

"Glenna! I thought you were Snape's little tart now."

Jack leaped up off the couch, eyes flashing. "Don't talk to her like that!"

Mr. Mulciber looked mildly amused. "Or what, boy?"

Glenna made a mad grab for Jack's arm. "It doesn't mat—"

Already Jack had whipped out his wand, aimed it, and a bolt of light shot out to strike his father, knocking him down. "Or _that_."

Horrified, Glenna jumped up as well, screeching, "Jack! What're you doing?"

"I won't let him insult you."

From the floor, Mr. Mulciber cast a spell of his own that hit his son squarely and sent him careening over the back of the couch. At the same time they both staggered to their feet; Glenna dove out of the way as the hexes streamed back and forth, being parried with a skill she'd suspected in the elder man, but had never witnessed from either of them. She felt proud of the way Jack held his own…until an _expelliarmus_ got past his defenses and his wand flew from his hand, leaving him vulnerable.

"You really are brain damaged, aren't you, Jack?" his father taunted. "Fool enough to raise a wand to me! Do it again and I'll teach you the meaning of pain." As a sample of what he might expect, Mulciber, Sr. _stupefied_ him. Jack landed on his back, gasping.

"Mr. Mulciber, please!" Glenna pleaded.

He ignored her. "You've got five minutes to get your ass back in there and act like you're having a good time. If you ruin your sister's day, you'll rue this day!" He shook his robes into place, spun, and huffed out.

Glenna bent over Jack, helped him to sit up, and handed him his wand. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault!"

"No, it's not, we fight all the time. Well, he fights, I squirm. This was nothing."

Jack laughed, which both surprised and relieved the girl, who smiled back at him. She'd not looked closely at him for ages, she'd forgotten how handsome he was, especially when his eyes twinkled and he smiled at her. All at once he leaned forward and kissed her; she didn't pull away.

From the arched entrance that Mulciber, Sr. had gone through, Regulus stood watching them, his mouth hanging open. He'd seen flashes of light and heard the sounds of hexes being deflected into walls, and he'd come to investigate. Feeling like an intruder, he glided silently backward into the shadows.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Hey, Snape, what's up?" Regulus remarked, skirting around the counter to enter the back room where his friend was brewing in a cauldron.

"I'm working, are you blind?" snapped Severus in a more-than-usual surly tone.

"Hmm," Regulus grunted, not well attuned to the fact that his presence might be distracting. "So how's Glenna?"

Severus' back tensed, his lips pressed together. "I wouldn't know. She hasn't spoken to me since Nott's wedding."

"Why?"

"She…we broke up." He peeled the cornea off a vulture's eye and dropped it into the mixture, keeping his eyes fixed on the pot.

"I thought things were great between you. What happened?" _Anything to do with Jack Mulciber?_

"Do you understand the concept of _personal_?" asked Severus caustically.

"Yeah." Apparently he was going to have to bring it all out into the open and see what Snape already knew. "I also understand I saw Glenna and Mulciber kissing at his house yesterday."

Severus' head snapped up from the cauldron, his hair hanging in limp black sheets around his face, his eyes hard as glass. "What? It's only been two weeks since we split!" Grabbing the only thing within reach, excluding the bubbling potion, he picked up a sack of herbs and flung it at Regulus.

The other caught it. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I figured you ought to know. Since you obviously still care, maybe you should go make up with her before Mulciber wins her over."

His friend shook his head, disbelief settling in. "She probably saw you there and knew you'd tell me. She's trying to make me jealous!"

"If so, she's succeeding."

_How dare she try to manipulate me like that! If this is her way to get me to marry her, she'd better think again!_ he fumed. _She won't talk to me, but she'll kiss Mulciber to piss me off!_ "I should _avada kedavra_ Mulciber's worthless ass," he growled.

"Like you would," Regulus observed dryly. He knew Severus well enough to know he wouldn't kill unless backed to the wall, the same as himself. "Don't blame Jack. While we were talking at the party he never mentioned Glenna, he didn't even know she was coming. An elf popped in and took him away."

"Are you calling Glenna a tramp?" asked Severus, his voice cold enough to freeze water. His wand, seemingly of its own accord, had pointed at Regulus' face.

"No. I'm saying _she_ approached _him_. Maybe she is trying to make you jealous, but if she's important to you, you'd better win her back before it's too late. Mulciber isn't wasting any time."

"Maybe I don't care," said Severus in a flip tone. It didn't suit him.

"Yeah, right," Regulus scoffed. "You wanna dislodge your wand from my nostril?"

Severus lowered the wand. "I'm not going to run to her like a puppy. I won't let her play games with me."

"Your call. Like I said, Mulciber's not wasting time." He ambled off toward the front of the store, calling back, "Is that potion supposed to smoke like that?"

Severus looked over at the brew spewing blue and red smoke in thin tendrils, and swore so loudly that people passing in the street heard him.


	40. Chapter 40Horcrux

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty

A searing pain in the flesh of his left forearm awakened Severus. The clock hanging on the wall at the foot of his bed read two-thirty. Groaning ever so quietly so the twins wouldn't hear, he squeezed the Mark hard; it seemed to reduce the ache a little. He got up, yanked on his clothing and Death Eater robes and rushed out the back way where he could Disapparate in private.

Arriving outside the castle, he met Regulus coming in looking every bit as weary, disoriented, and disheveled as he felt. The boy had forgotten his mask, though since they rarely wore them inside the building it wasn't a big deal. Unless they were to be sent on a mission. Severus definitely hoped not.

"Regulus!" he hissed softly.

The other turned and smiled at the familiar voice. "Hey, Snape. Any idea why we're being called in the bloody middle of the night?"

"Because the master chose to call us now," answered Severus cautiously, lest anyone overhear. "Let's go in, no one else seems to be coming."

They went on in to the meeting room and stopped dead. Already eight other Death Eaters formed a semi-circle around Lord Voldemort, all of whom stared at the boys making an entrance. Hurrying forward, they threw themselves onto their knees to greet the master.

"Dawdling outside?" he asked in a harsh tone.

"Only for a moment, my lord," Severus said quickly, face flushing with guilt. "We thought others might be arriving."

Voldemort waved him aside impatiently. From the looks of things, he was disturbed, and when the dark lord was disturbed, everyone best tread very lightly. Severus cast a furtive glance around the circle as he took his place. Beside him stood Lucius, impassive as always in the Death Eater meetings, though he fixed Snape with a brief, questioning glimpse. His long hair hung free and, apparently, uncombed in his haste to answer the call. Severus thought it wise not to bring it to Lucius' attention in the future, the man had a definite fixation with his appearance. Regulus moved over to stand next to Bellatrix, whose husband graced her other side.

"We're all here," Voldemort stated. "All those I trust to know the secret of my immortality."

A murmur of surprise ran through the ranks, all save Bellatrix, Dolohov, the elder Avery, and Mulciber, Sr., who smirked at the confused faces of their comrades, part of whose bafflement came from wondering why they'd been chosen. Voldemort, too, noted the expressions with a sneer that made his ghostly face altogether grotesque.

"Why are you here and not the rest, isn't that what you're thinking?" asked Voldemort casually. He didn't bother to wait for an answer. "Some of you have served me for decades, you already know what I'm about to reveal. Lucius, you've served me faithfully, if not always to my satisfaction. I'm assuming you will be valuable as governor, and you did bring me Snape, whose talents have already proven quite useful. Rookwood, your position in the Ministry gives you access to sensitive information. The rest—well, any relatives of Bellatrix who choose to serve me have my trust."

Bellatrix ducked her head and looked like she was about to giggle from the unexpected compliment.

"I have mentioned immortality, my friends. Do you doubt my abilities?"

"No, my lord," they all chorused, vigorously shaking their heads. The confusion concerning this aspect hadn't lessened.

"Do you even know why you carry the name 'Death Eater'?" he queried with another twisted smile.

There was an infinitesimal pause before most of them admitted in unison, "No, my lord."

"Enlighten them, Dolohov."

The pale man with the misshapen face looked around the group, then he gestured to Avery and Mulciber. "We served the master before most of you were born. In his unbounded genius he discovered a way to preserve his soul to keep him from ever dying. We were promised the chance for the same if we earn the right. We would defeat and devour Death itself…Death Eaters."

Lucius bit his lip to stop himself from asking the obvious question: Had Lord Voldemort yet shared this secret with them? Highly unlikely. He couldn't begin to envision the master entrusting such information to mere servants—hired wands, if you will.

"My lord?" came Regulus' voice.

_Oh, no, he's not going to ask! What is wrong with that boy? Can't he keep a single thought to himself?_ Lucius made a mental note to slap some sense into the kid before he got himself killed.

Regulus waited for a sign from the dark lord, then continued, "Are we going to be taught this secret of immortality?"

Voldemort's high, abrasive laugh pierced the air. In the wee hours of the morning, it sounded particularly grating on the eardrums. "Anxious, are you, boy? You've yet to learn a quarter of the dark arts I teach, and you wish immortality?" He laughed again. While irritating, it was a bit heartening. At least his mood had improved.

"Forgive my presumption, my lord," Regulus mumbled, head down.

"No doubt the boy speaks for all of you," said Voldemort, staring around the circle of faces. "I studied long and hard to reach the ultimate, to discover the means of creating a horcrux, an object to house my soul; I don't intend to throw my treasure to swine."

At the extremely unflattering remark, there were various looks of displeasure, which were carefully concealed immediately. No one dared speak their discontent, although the older members of the group, those who'd been with Voldemort from the start of his reign of terror, bore a suggestion of betrayal.

The master gifted them with a haughty glare. "I have spliced off part of my soul. Do any of you believe you bear the same ability to do so?"

"No, master," and "No, my lord," echoed through the room.

"It would be foolish of me to disclose where my soul resides, would it not? It is enough that you, my inner circle, understand my true power. If this body of mine were to die, my soul would live. Eventually I would find my way back."

_How_? sat on the tip of every tongue, and stayed there. Too many questions tended to prove painful, perhaps even fatal.

Voldemort chattered on, seemingly buoyed by speaking of himself. "If and when I deem any of you worthy, I'll share the means to immortality. Prove yourselves deserving through your faithful service and mastery of the dark arts."

"You're very generous, master," Lucius murmured, truly enthralled by the subject. Bella had once mentioned 'horcrux'; now he knew what it meant. Did he believe he'd ever achieve such a thing? No, but it was nice to dream. On the other hand, if Lord Voldemort was correct and he had somehow secured his soul into an object, there was no way to kill him. All of their lives were doomed to perpetual servitude.

His ruminations were broken by the dark lord's callous words, "Yes, Malfoy, more generous than you deserve." He glared pointedly at the young man, who blinked back his surprise, unsure of what he'd done this time. "This brings me to the other reason I've called you here. Our friend _Lucius_ was instructed to recruit James Potter. He failed."

A visible flinch ran through the circle. Everyone understood the price of failure. Lucius swallowed hard, determined not to show fear, not to beg. If he was to be punished again, he'd take it like a man. It had been two months since his unsuccessful attempt to draw the Potter bastard into the fold, why was the master upset now? Or need he ask? Lord Voldemort was well known for brooding.

His apprehension vanished with a silent sigh of relief at the master's next words. "Lucius has been appropriately chastised. Potter, however, has not. It is my belief he has joined Dumbledore's wretched _Order of the Phoenix_." He spit out the phrase as if it were loathsome to let the words taint his tongue. "I wish vengeance on Potter, as well as on the Order. Your assignment is to find an opportunity to strike them."

Bellatrix took a single step forward, so that she was directly in front of him, then went down on her knees and laid her head on his feet. "Let me kill him, master. Lucius knows where he lives, let me go kill him now."

"Ah, Bellatrix, your devotion is unparalleled." Voldemort lifted her head up to rest on his lap, where he unconsciously began to play with the mane of long, dark hair while his eyes narrowed to red slits. "No, I want him to die in the company of the friends he's chosen to keep, preferably after watching them depart this life. It's so much more satisfying that way."

Severus glanced over at Rodolphus, more than a little astonished at how calmly he took seeing his wife draped over another man. In fact, he seemed downright unconcerned, his dark eyes casually sweeping over the scene. One might have thought Rabastan was her husband instead in the way he pinched his mouth at the sight. Though he resembled his brother in the wavy brown hair and dark eyes, he was thinner, with a nervous habit of casting his eyes around as if anticipating an attack.

"Go now. You have your assignment." Voldemort waved his hand and he vanished with Bellatrix.

The rest filed outside to go home. Lucius snatched hold of Regulus, whirling him around. "What is the matter with you? When are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?"

Regulus stared back at him, not fully understanding. "What did I do?"

"'Are we going to be taught this secret of immortality'?" Lucius mimicked in a deliberately high voice. "You're lucky he laughed instead of hexing your lame arse! Do I have to whack some sense into your skull?"

"I'd prefer you didn't," said Regulus, jerking away and trying to maintain a semblance of dignity.

"From now on, don't ask questions unless absolutely necessary. Got it?"

"You're not my boss," retorted the lad.

Lucius slapped his face. "Don't get mouthy with me! My wife is your cousin, for some strange reason she has an affection for you, and she expects me to look out for you. I can't do that when you willingly throw yourself in front of the master's wand!"

Severus, who'd been observing from the background, lifted his voice. "Lucius, I think he gets it."

Still disgruntled and glowering, Lucius took a step backward. "Mind your manners with me, Regulus, and do as I say. I'm trying to help you."

The boy rubbed a hand along the smarting red mark on his cheek. While tempted to remind Lucius that he wasn't his father, he didn't have to obey, it didn't seem the most judicious thing to say. Lucius had taught him how to repel Veritaserum, he was going out of his way to teach him survival skills around the dark lord. The least he could do was listen. "Fine, I'll try not to be so inquisitive."

"And rash," Lucius added.

"And rash. Alright?"

"That's better." Lucius merely nodded to Severus. "Narcissa is awake, I don't like to worry her." With that he Disapparated.

"Snape, hold up," Regulus said, stepping closer even though no one else remained. "Did you and Glenna make up?"

"No. I haven't gone to see her," Severus replied stiffly.

"Are you insane? It's been a month since I told you about her and Mulciber!"

Severus shook his hair back, jaw clenched. "I told you, if she's going to play a game, so am I. She put me off, now I'll make _her_ wait."

Aghast, Regulus simply gaped at his friend for several seconds, then pronounced solemnly, "You're a stubborn shithead. I'm ordering you to go to her tomorrow!"

Snape rolled his eyes and said dryly, "You frighten me so."

"What _should_ frighten you is the prospect of losing the girl you love!" snapped the boy. "Then again, maybe you don't love her. Do whatever you want, I'm tired and I'm going to bed." He disappeared.

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All told it had been seven weeks since their break up. Out of sheer obstinacy he'd delayed another week after speaking to Regulus, but Black was right, it was time to stop the asinine games and swallow his pride. His mind made up, Severus rehearsed the speech he'd mentally prepared before Apparating in front of her house. Grateful the house elf bade him linger in the foyer while he fetched _Glenna_ instead of her parents, he stood rock still in spite of his desire to pace like the nervous wreck he was. When Jack walked in, Severus nearly had a conniption.

"What are you doing here?" Severus demanded.

"I could ask the same," Mulciber replied, a sneer creeping across his face.

"I came to see my girlfriend. Do you mind?" asked Severus with a hateful snarl that made plain he damn well didn't care if Mulciber minded.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Your girlfriend? As I recall, you broke up. Glenna is _my_ girlfriend now, and yeah, I _do_ mind."

Glenna came in from the same direction Mulciber had; she laid a light hand on his arm, making Severus' blood boil. "Jack, please. I'll only be a few minutes."

Jack started to turn, then spun back to kiss her on the mouth before leaving the room. Even though Severus understood he'd done it in a childish bid to prove Glenna was his, it made him seethe nonetheless.

Snape took a deep breath and began to recite his speech. "Alright, Glenna, let's be blunt. I know you took up with Mulciber to make me jealous. Congratulations, you've succeeded. I should've come to you earlier, I'm sorry." That was all he'd planned, and now that he'd said it, it seemed completely inadequate. His tone took on an almost pleading quality. "Why don't you tell him to go away so we can fix this?"

Shaking her head, Glenna murmured, "It's too late to fix it, if it was ever possible. We want different things from life; I want a stable family, you…don't. I couldn't hang on forever on the chance that one day you _might_ decide to marry me. I moved on."

"But why Jack?"

"Why not Jack? He's never made a secret of the fact that he loves me, and we were happy together before. It made sense to try once more."

Wheels turning in Severus' befuddled brain brought up a slew of memories, particularly those concerning Mulciber. Maybe when Mulciber kissed her that time, she really did like it, maybe she'd been hoping to go back to him, maybe everything was a lie. Without the censorship of a cool head, his mouth spouted, "You probably wanted to break up, you just used that 'Lily' comment as an excuse!"

Glenna's fist shot out, slamming hard into his eye. He let out an unexpected grunt and lurched backward, one hand clutched over the injured orb.

"I wanted you, Severus," she hissed, advancing on him as he backed into the wall. "You made it very clear you didn't want _me_, not as a wife anyway. You don't want a wife or children, but you expect me to hang around hoping for God knows how many years? I won't do it!"

"I never said that's what I expected," he protested weakly.

"No, you didn't say it, but it was crystal clear. 'Lily' was just the last straw." She stood up tall and straightened her robes, moving away from him. "Jack proposed to me last night, and I accepted."

Severus dropped his hand from his throbbing eye, all sense of composure utterly gone as he gaped at the only woman who'd ever stirred in him such a horrendous sense of loss. Even Lily's withdrawal of friendship, intense as it was, hideously painful as it was, hadn't struck quite so hard. The air seemed suddenly too thin to breathe. "Glenna, don't do this! You don't love him…do you?" he finished in a bare squeak.

With a callousness born of necessity for the situation, Glenna threw his own words back at him. "I care very much for him." Then softening a bit, she added, "Besides, it's a little late to worry about that."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm pregnant."

Stunned into silence, Severus fell back heavily against the wall. He felt for all the world like he'd been kicked in the groin, the stomach, and the teeth all at once. This was his fault; he should have come to her as soon as he found out Mulciber was back in the picture, but _no_, he had to be a jackass and now she was carrying Mulciber's spawn! He thought for a moment he might vomit.

"Does _he_ know?" Severus croaked.

"Yes, and unlike you, he's happy to have a child."

Severus pushed himself away from the wall. Everything seemed strange, unreal. There were so many things he wished to say yet hadn't the faintest idea of where to begin, and now it was all useless anyway. She was marrying Mulciber, she would bear his child, there were no more chances. The game was over and he had lost. In a scarcely audible voice he said, "I guess I should go. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Severus," she replied softly, watching him stagger dazedly out. Then she ran to her room, threw herself on the bed, and burst into tears.

On his way out, Severus met Jack leaning against a porch column. He gave Mulciber a rough shove, spinning him around. "You didn't waste any time taking advantage, did you?"

Jack took a step back, smiling. He could afford to be the bigger man, he'd won. "I watched Glenna with you all year. You think I'm gonna blow the chance when she comes to me? No hard feelings?"

If looks could kill, the glare emanating from Severus' hard black eyes would have _avada kedavra_'d Mulciber on the spot. It took all his willpower to restrain himself from attacking the other young man. "You have my girlfriend, you idiot, of course there are hard feelings!"

He stomped off the porch and Disapparated into a lonely meadow where he occasionally came to think, or just to be alone. Sinking to his knees, he bent over hugging his sides that ached from suppressing his emotion. He was poison, that was the only answer. He'd contaminated the only two women he'd dared to love, and now they were gone. He'd caused Lily to push him away, now his attitude and stupidity had pushed Glenna into Mulciber's arms. He was cursed to be alone forever, all of his own doing.

His body began to shake as long quelled feelings wrenched their way from the deepest recesses of his soul, and he sobbed alone in the field like a lost child.

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The last time Lucius had been at Hogwarts, he'd been a student. Striding across the grounds toward the castle, he took in the familiar scene with both nostalgia and loathing. Nothing seemed different in these four years that had passed. Once he'd reached the courtyard, where students milled freely in the mid-October chill, it gave him an odd thrill to note the behavior of the girls of all ages, turning to stare at him, giggling to one another, even casting seductive glances his way. He didn't remember the girls being quite so taken with him when he attended here, though to be fair he and Narcissa were an item for his final two years. That tended to be a turnoff. As for the children watching him now, he found it entertaining, though hardly enticing. He loved Narcissa more now than he had when they married, when he was positive he could never love anyone more.

He paused in the hallway to check his pocket watch. Yes, he was early, though he preferred to be thought of as _prompt_. He detested lollygaggers and other such riffraff that took up his precious time. Not that he especially looked forward to this meeting with the Headmaster, who'd made it his mission in life to destroy Lucius' life while he was at school. Admittedly, Dumbledore hadn't actually _caused_ Lucius to do any of the things he'd been punished for, but…what was his point again? Ah, the meeting, yes. He continued down the corridor.

For the very first time, he didn't recoil from entering Dumbledore's office, where more than once he'd sat anxiously awaiting his father's arrival after some troublesome prank. He shuddered involuntarily, recalling the elder Malfoy's cane on his backside. Lucius took a deep breath, reminding himself he was a governor now, he was in a position of authority over Dumbledore instead of the reverse. Even so, the old man's intense scrutiny made him feel like a sixteen-year-old anarchist.

"Lucius, it's good to see you," said the Headmaster pleasantly.

"Headmaster," he responded. _You're a man, Malfoy, act like it!_ "As you're aware, I've been appointed governor. As such, I thought it expedient to make the rounds of the school, find out what's necessary, determine how best to spend the budget. I'm certain you have no objections."

"As a matter of fact, I do," replied the old wizard, rising from his chair, his twinkling eyes clouding over. "Reading over the allowance given the school, I couldn't help but notice you donated a rather large sum, with the stipulation that it be used for purebloods and halfbloods only."

"Yes, that's correct," Lucius smiled smugly. "You're very welcome."

"I find it insulting, Malfoy!" Dumbledore barked. "You're in a position to be looked up to, yet you insist on propagating this myth of pureblood supremacy."

Lucius stared back at him, putting on his innocent-yet-offended face. "I don't understand why you're attacking me. I merely wish to ensure that the mud—Muggleborns don't receive preferential treatment."

"Are you accusing me of bigotry, Lucius?"

_If the shoe fits_… "I had no intention of slurring you, Dumbledore. I simply remember your, ah, _inclination_ to side with Gryffindors over, say, Slytherins. Where one prejudice exists, another is sure to follow." Lucius smiled again ever so sweetly.

"If it were in my power, I would refuse your donation."

Lucius' smile morphed into a satisfied smirk. "But it isn't. I'll be checking the books from time to time to make sure the letter of the decree is followed. It's my right—nay, my duty to do so." He struggled to control the chuckles of unadulterated joy fighting to get loose, forcing his face to be perfectly expressionless.

"Do what you must, Lucius. I do believe you delight in causing turmoil now every bit as much as you did when you were a boy. I had thought Abraxas tried to break you of it. My mistake." Dumbledore dropped back into his chair, scowling.

That was where he drew the line! Dumbledore could malign him if he so chose, but his father was off limits. Now the emotions he struggled to shove down were angry indignation. "My father brought me up quite well, thank you. He taught me to protect my own because no one else is going to, especially not mudblood-loving embarrassments to the name of wizard!"

Dumbledore's hand slammed down on top of his desk so hard the solid structure rattled and Lucius jumped involuntarily. Surely he'd fractured a bone or two with the force, Lucius thought, yet he appeared uninjured. The Headmaster's voice boomed out, "We are finished here, Mr. Malfoy. If you must inspect the castle or grounds, Hagrid will escort you. Please leave my office."

To his surprise, Lucius found the gigantic man waiting outside as he exited. _How very convenient._ Had Dumbledore planned all along to have this oaf toddling around after him? He started off down the corridor without a word to Hagrid, who traipsed dutifully along.

"What're yer wantin' ter see, Mr. Malfoy?" he thundered in his ominously amicable voice.

"I've changed my mind, Hagrid, is it? Your Headmaster's nasty disposition has given me a headache."

"Nasty? Dumbledore?" the giant echoed.

"Surely you understand the words?" Lucius sighed. How stupid could he be?

"Yeah, 'course I do. Did yer care ter see Madame Pomfrey? I reckon she's got a cure fer what ails ye," Hagrid suggested.

"I 'reckon' she does," said Lucius, rolling his eyes at the bumpkin. "I think I'll be on my way, thank you."

"Then I'll be escortin' ye, accordin' ter Dumbledore's orders." He swerved off into the grass, motioning Lucius to come along. "Bit shorter this way."

Lucius said nothing as he followed along. He really wasn't in the mood to inspect the school now, but he'd told the other governors he'd do it, and he was obligated to carry it through. That meant he'd have to make another trip. By the time he started listening to Hagrid ramble on, the huge man was halfway into a conversation with himself concerning the upcoming Halloween Ball.

"The Ball? Perhaps I'll come back then," Lucius interrupted. "I could interview a number of students about their needs and concerns."

"Oh, well Dumbledore won't be 'ere, Mr. Malfoy, 'e's got a meetin' that night; don't reckon he'd take ter yer showin' up then."

"Yes, I wouldn't want to keep him from his fun," Lucius said, his sarcasm wasted on the giant.

"I wouldn't hardly call the Order fun," Hagrid answered, then got a terrible look of guilt. "I hadn't ought ter 'ave said nothin'."

In a tired, bored voice Lucius drawled, "Whatever you've said, and rest assured I haven't a clue what you're on about most of the time, it can't be too bad if Dumbledore told you about it." They were nearly at the boundary. "I'll contact Dumbledore to schedule an appropriate time to visit."

Lucius crossed over the boundary and disappeared on his way to see Lord Voldemort, his stomach dancing in his gut. He would be redeemed and rewarded for this information! Even if he didn't know the exact time or place, the Order of the Phoenix planned a meeting for Halloween night, someplace other than Hogwarts. The master would be very pleased.


	41. Chapter 41

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-One

Lucius slowly detached himself from his wife's loving embrace and scooted to the edge of the bed. He looked back at her slumbering form, the exquisite curves of her face making him want to reach out to stroke her. No, he ought to let her sleep. She worried about him too much as it was, which was the reason for waiting until this late hour to go to Lord Voldemort.

The butterflies in his stomach seemed intent on stomping about like rampaging elephants, yet he should be at ease. This was good news for a change, he had a plan for how to locate the Order of the Phoenix on Halloween to make the raid a reality and a success. He knew from the enormous oaf's statement it wouldn't be at Hogwarts; all they had to do was stake out a variety of known haunts.

He stood up, a simple silent _accio_ bringing his clothes to him, another fetching his Death Eater robes. How he wished he could lie down and make love to Narcissa again before going. Her touch soothed him, encouraged him, strengthened him. How he loved her!

Narcissa moaned lightly and opened her eyes to see a naked Lucius gazing down at her in rapt attention from the other side of the bed, a bundle of clothing in his hand. His lips curved upward at her glance. "Honey, why are you standing there?"

"Just watching you," he said quietly. He dropped the robes on the floor as he knelt onto the bed and crawled over to her to plant a long kiss on her delicious lips. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Her arms reached up around his neck and pulled his body down to hers, where he snuggled comfortably up against her. "Were you going somewhere?"

His whole body tightened reflexively. "Yes." Her sudden intake of breath and panicked countenance grieved him, and he laid a warm hand on her cheek. "I wasn't called, I have an idea to share with the dark lord. He's forgiven me for my last failure because of the information I supplied, maybe now he'll even reward me. I must do this."

"Are you sure he won't hurt you again?" she whispered, clinging to him for dear life, her lips trembling.

"I'm positive," Lucius assured her, though in the back of his mind he thought he could never really be certain with Lord Voldemort; one time the tiniest thing might set him off, other times he was more lax. Still, he hadn't done anything wrong, he had recently discovered information the master requested, now he had an idea on how to use it. It was by far the best option for him to be the one to present a viable plan. "I must tell him before someone else comes up with a scheme."

"I hate him," Narcissa murmured.

Lucius placed his fingers gently over her mouth; his commanding tone, albeit quiet, left no room for argument. "Don't ever say that. Don't ever think it. If a Legilimens ever read it in your mind—or mine—we'd both be marked for death. Remember I told you about this horcrux thing the master made to make himself immortal?"

"Yes. I still don't understand how it's possible."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not completely convinced, either, but if it _is_ true the dark lord can never die. I'll have to serve him all my life. I can't afford to have you saying things that could entrap us. Alright?"

Narcissa nodded. Lucius laid her head against his chest and stroked her hair. Was this horcrux possible? He hoped not, he hoped it was merely the delusion of a warped psychopath. He imagined the horror of disloyal Death Eaters killing the master in a coup, only to discover the master had returned for vengeance. It made him shudder in spite of the warmth. Mentally he chastised himself for allowing the word 'psychopath' into his mind, then slipped it behind the Occlumency barriers.

"I hope the war is over quickly, Narcissa. Then I'll gain a high position of power and Lord Voldemort can turn his attention elsewhere."

"Do you have to go tonight?" she asked. He didn't need to see her face to detect the pleading to stay.

"No, my love. Now that you're aware of it, I can go in the morning." He began to nuzzle her neck playfully. "I can think of something else I'd much rather do tonight."

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Jack glanced around the ballroom that had been set up for his wedding. The place was small compared to some, such as Malfoy Manor, but then all of Mulciber's house would fit inside Malfoy Manor two or three times. The decorations and other preparations were attractively presented, not as rushed as he thought they'd look, not that he cared. He was marrying Glenna today, he could be attending his wedding in a Muggle garbage dump and it wouldn't phase him.

Then, to send his joy into a tailspin, Mulciber, Sr. came tottering in with a glass of firewhiskey clutched in his hand. This was all he needed, to have an intoxicated father disrupting the proceedings or making a fool of himself!

"Dad, can't you wait for the reception to get sloshed?"

"Shut your trap, boy," growled the man. "You're lucky I let you use the house to marry that wench." He shook his head and continued speaking, more to himself than to his son. "Little imbecile. Can't even screw a girl without getting her knocked up."

"I love her, I'm glad to father her baby," Jack snapped.

Mulciber, Sr. snorted. "Glad to get a piece of ass, you mean."

"Dad, quit!" If Jack thought he could get away with it, he'd snatch the alcohol away from the man. He wasn't too loaded yet; if only he could keep it that way. Nonetheless, personal experience had taught him not to push too hard lest he find himself sobbing on the floor under the Cruciatus. "Just quit."

His father straightened up and glared. "Who do you think you are, telling me what to do?" He poked Jack in the chest with a hard finger, thumping the same spot repeatedly as he imperiously announced, "You're nobody. You're a smartmouthed, lame excuse for an heir. If I had another son, I'd toss you into the street to scrounge like a rat!"

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes. The beginning of the drunken rant. He'd heard this so many times over the years that it failed to elicit a reaction anymore. "Scuttles!" The elf popped in next to him. "Go tell mum my dad is getting drunk." The elf vanished.

Mulciber, Sr. had stopped prodding his son. He stood there staring in open shock at the audacity of the boy. "You'll pay for that later, boy!"

Jack looked over at the clock. Guests should start arriving any time, he was safe for the moment. Then he smirked as he backed up, adjusted his robes, and smoothed his hair. "I don't think so, dad. After the wedding I'm going to live with Glenna."

Just then his mother Apparated in, homed in on her husband, and charged over to berate him while he meekly ducked his head. Jack chuckled to himself for his craftiness; while his father may be a bully to his son, the big, bad Death Eater was afraid of his wife! As he walked away, Jack started to hum happily.

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The entire hit squad were gathering at the decrepit castle for last minute instructions. Snape paced irritably, not because he didn't want to go—he'd volunteered, in fact—but out of the turmoil raging inside him. He hated Potter with every fiber of his being, and despite his agreement not to hex the bastard, he had every intention of doing just that. Their 'truce' wasn't real, it was only for Potter to deceive himself into believing he'd made up for all the wicked years of tormenting Severus, or possibly to prove his 'maturity' to Lily. Either way, this was business, they were mortal enemies on more than one front. Business trumped fake truces.

Oh, he'd leave the killing curse to someone else, but his fury and agony over Glenna's wedding the previous week made him positively crazed with a desire to inflict pain on those deserving of it. The more he tried not to think of Glenna, the more memories shoved their way into his mind. Today, Halloween, made one year to the day since he had lost his virginity and his heart. Why didn't he tell her? Could the pain have been any worse?

"Hey, Snape," Regulus called, striding over to slap him on the back. The malevolent icy stare he received made him instinctively back off a few paces. "What's with you?"

"What're you doing here?" Severus said, ignoring the question.

"Bella nominated me to go. She thought I'd like a chance to kill my brother." The lad bit his lip and dropped his eyes to the ground.

"Wouldn't we all?" drawled the other, mildly surprised at Regulus' behavior. He'd heard Black go on at length about his despicable brother, how ashamed he was to have the Gryffindork attached to the family. It seemed an ideal time to remedy the situation….ah, that's right: Regulus shared his own reluctance to murder! "You don't have to kill him, just torture him. Let someone else have their fun."

Regulus grunted in lieu of reply just as Bellatrix sauntered over arm in arm with Rodolphus, yet again making Severus wonder deeply about their relationship. With her wickedly joyous smile plastered on her face, she resembled a wolf on the hunt. Her husband, cool and unexcited as always, seemed vaguely interested in the mission to come. It was a step up from his typical bored expression.

"The dark lord will grace us with his presence shortly. Where's blondie?" she asked, looking around.

As if in answer, Lucius Apparated directly behind her, then pulled off his mask. Though one would be hard pressed to tell from his bearing, he didn't wish to be here. The master had been so pleased with his service that he'd been 'rewarded' again by being given charge of the raid. Of course, if it failed, he'd be the one to blame. He detested dancing on the edge of this blade, and he wished—rather subversively—that Lord Voldemort handed out rewards meaningful to someone other than a bloodthirsty lunatic!

"Is everyone here?" he queried. They seemed one shy.

"Not Wilkes," Bella answered. "If he doesn't get here soon, I'll _crucio_ the shit out of him, I want to get going."

"Who's idea was it to have him come along?" asked Rodolphus.

With a tiny pursing of the lips, Bella responded glumly, "The master's. He said Wilkes hasn't done anything to prove himself lately, so this will give him the opportunity. The master is always right."

"Always," echoed Rodolphus.

Less than a minute elapsed before the tardy Wilkes made an appearance. He was saved from Bella's wrath, her wand already aimed, when Lord Voldemort came out to greet his minions. Immediately they all knelt, groveled, and formed their circle in silence. The dark lord's high voice pierced the cool dusk.

"Death Eaters, this mission is important on many levels, not the least of which is to teach our enemies that we are not to be dismissed. Lucius here brought us the information and formed a strategy, on which you've all been briefed. You've been assigned your posts. Alter your appearances now."

Each of them, all but Lucius, took out their wands; soon none but Lucius was recognizable. Voldemort gestured to him to take charge.

"Patrol your posts diligently," Malfoy commanded, regarding the group one by one. He would have preferred older, more experienced members than Snape or Regulus, but it hadn't been his call. The dark lord had permitted them to volunteer. "If you see any known target entering an establishment, press your Mark and the rest will come. If you see a target Disapparating, obviously he's headed elsewhere. When you arrive at the determined meeting place, don your masks so they know who they're up against." He gave a wry smile. "We wouldn't want anyone to wonder who stamped them out."

A now blond, blue eyed Bella squirmed with a desire to speak. "We know everybody's station. Where will you be?" she challenged, as if it had just occurred to her.

Lucius gave an exaggerated sigh and sneered, "I'll be at Hogwarts keeping Dumbledore busy so you can take care of business. Unless you'd like to fight him, Bella?"

"I'd fight him for the master's honor!" she shrilled. "I'll kill Potter and his mudblood if she's there, and Dumbledore too, if he shows up! No one defies the dark lord!"

Tempted as he was to applaud sarcastically, Lucius refrained. The master might interpret it as a sign of disrespect. "Your enthusiasm is both desirable and enviable. Would that all our Death Eaters showed such devotion."

The compliment smoothed her ruffled feathers and she backed down.

With a bow to Voldemort, Lucius ordered, "Make the master proud. Go."

Each of the Death Eaters popped to their stations: Bellatrix to the Potter home, where she hid behind a large bush with a view of the front door; Snape to Knockturn Alley; Regulus to patrol the streets of Diagon Alley; Rodolphus outside the Three Broomsticks, a known haunt of Dumbledore; and Wilkes outside the believed residence of one of the other Order members. Lucius Apparated at the boundary to Hogwarts, rather looking forward to confronting good old Dumbles again; last time had been _such_ great fun.

He'd almost made it to the castle before he saw Hagrid lumbering toward him, and he groaned in exasperation. This operation was trying enough without enduring the mumblings of an uneducated—whatever he was! Nevertheless, he slipped on a pleasant face.

"Well, hello, Hagrid. Has Dumbledore sent you to greet me?"

"Uh, no," Hagrid grunted, slightly confused. "I thought I told yer Dumbledore were busy tonight."

Lucius' eyebrows shot up and his mouth formed a perfect 'o'. "Come to think of it, perhaps you did. I must have forgotten. Well, since I'm here, I may as well speak to the Headmaster." He strolled on past Hagrid, right on into the corridor leading to Dumbledore's office.

"'E's in the Great Hall," Hagrid offered. "Yer know, givin' the lecture on proper conduct fer the ball an' such."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Lucius called over his shoulder, adjusting his course. _Step up your game, Malfoy. Time to play nice with the old coot._ Quite a distance from the Hall he heard the sounds of music and students, reminding him of the parties held at Malfoy Manor and how much he detested them. A split second before entering, his left forearm began to burn and throb fiercely, though he kept a straight face. They'd already determined the rendezvous! He picked up his pace before Dumbledore could elude him, slip out, and ruin everything.

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Five Death Eaters huddled behind the bush at James Potter's house, their masks intact, wands out. Upon detecting someone Apparating on the doorstep and going in, Bella had given a thoughtful frown. She'd waited but the person didn't leave. It didn't take much to deduce that Potter wouldn't be entertaining company if he had a meeting to attend, unless he was _hosting_ the meeting! She gleefully pushed up her sleeve and pressed the Mark; moments later four of her companions had joined her.

"Malfoy is busy with Dumbledore, which means I'm in charge," she announced in a hiss.

"Why you?" asked Wilkes, instantly regretting it when her wand stabbed him in the neck.

"Because it's my station," she clipped menacingly, twisting the wand in a painful arch. "Any objections?"

The rest wasted no time in shaking their heads, as did Wilkes while peering down in fear at the wand lodged against his throat. Bella let him go and he rubbed at the bruised skin.

"I only saw one go in—wait!" Everyone sucked in a breath. Another man had just Apparated and was approaching the house. Severus tensed, hatred boiling inside. It was Remus Lupin! "Rodolphus, go around back, see if his wards are up."

Her husband vanished, only to reappear moments later. "I can't get in, the wards are up." He smirked and snickered. "But I did hex the floo network like Lucius talked about with the master. No one's coming in that way."

The rest congratulated him on fine thinking, for Lucius had forgotten to mention that part in the final meeting where they were all gathered. Bella briefly mulled over the options they had: break down the wards, thereby alerting the occupants; draw the occupants outside for the battle; or enter by invitation, which seemed blatantly ludicrous. She tossed out option three without a second thought.

"Rodolphus, you know the charms the master taught us for tearing down wards. Start on it while the rest of us try to bring the fight outside, starting with the next person to come to the party." She laughed out loud, then led the group right up to the house where they divided up to flank the door.

Courtesy of her husband, a deep purple ring of light flickered around the house and rose up into the sky as a ward fell, at precisely the same time a man popped onto the doorstep. Four different hexes slammed him at once. While only Bellatrix had cast the _avada kedavra_, combined with Wilkes' deadly bloating curse and two other jinxes, it reacted in a peculiar, sickening fashion. As if hit by a hand grenade, the man's body convulsed and exploded, raining bits of blood and flesh not only all over the walkway, but on the Death Eaters themselves.

Severus and Regulus, who'd cast relatively harmless spells, shied back in astounded disgust, struggling to control their impulse to gag. Wilkes roared with delight, and Bella's squeals tore across the yard; a second later she shot a triumphant spell into the sky. The odd noises, flashing lights, and shouts drew the attention of those inside, who rushed to the door with wands raised.

Meanwhile, Rodolphus had broken another ward, which rose as an eerie green halo of an astonishingly similar shade to the Dark Mark hovering in the sky where Bella cast it. The halo encircled the Mark as if protecting it. The thought made him grin.

From the front windows of the house, James, Sirius, Lily, and Remus had begun throwing curses at the Death Eaters, who ran for cover as they fired back. While it could be argued that to go out to meet the Death Eaters would be suicidal, if they didn't, the next person to show up might well meet the same fate as poor Benjy Fenwick. They knew they had no choice when the final ward fell in a blaze of fire flashing around the house. It faded to blue flame and sputtered, then died.

Sirius shouted to the others, "Cover me, I'm going out!"

The others threw a multitude of hexes in every direction as Sirius bolted outside, did a forward roll into the grass, and landed on his feet firing. Remus followed him, taking up position across the yard to jinx Bellatrix, whose furious volley of curses tore through his defenses and landed him flat on his back. One of Sirius' spells sped at Regulus, who narrowly turned it aside. Bellatrix joined the younger brother in fighting Sirius, thoroughly enjoying the thought of tormenting the little blood traitor before time to do away with him. Out of nowhere Frank and Alice Longbottom were in the yard dueling Snape and Wilkes.

By now Rodolphus had joined the fray by bursting through a window in the back of the house. Had they not heard the breaking glass, he'd have come upon James and Lily unawares. Instead, both ran to the sound and blasted him together, sending him tumbling backward out the window, then they sprinted for the front door, right into the yard to take up dueling.

Severus' eye caught Lily, and for a split second his attention wavered. A thunderous stunning spell threw him to the ground, his breathing coming short and labored. Bella whipped around and cast an _avada_ at Frank that missed by a hair's breadth, turning the auror's wand in her direction and leaving Regulus to duel his brother alone. Rodolphus, staggering around from the side of the house, shot a jinx at Potter, who blocked it and fired back. He never saw the _sectumsempra_ Snape cast from the ground, the curse that sliced open his back from shoulder to opposite hip, driving him face first into the dirt.

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"Lucius, I believe I fully explained to you the reasons I will not participate in your 'inspection'," Dumbledore reiterated calmly, sighing a little.

"Headmaster, I don't wish to be a pill, in spite of your rather low opinion of my motives," Lucius answered just as calmly. "We have differing principles, perhaps, yet our objective is the same—the health and welfare of Hogwarts students. It seems to me that cooperation is key to achieving our objective."

"And I've told you, feel free to interview students, look through our expenditure logs, do what you must. When you have the information you need, take it back to the Governing Board for your allocation meeting." He glanced down at his pocket watch in agitation. "We've spent twenty minutes on this wrangling, yet I don't feel we've achieved much at all. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I have somewhere I need to be."

"But—"

"You're here, go ahead and interview students. Hagrid will escort you out when you're through." Dumbledore nodded in dismissal and strode out of the Great Hall.

_Twenty minutes_, Lucius mused. _Add a few minutes for him to leave the grounds—unless he uses the floo!_ Dammit, why hadn't he remembered to mention that earlier? What if they hadn't secured the floo network at the meeting place? It might be packed with Order members who'd floo'd in! He forced himself to eradicate the image of the Death Eater group encountering a couple dozen enemies and being summarily slaughtered. They were smarter than that, they'd leave if overwhelmed.

"Mr. Malfoy," a high voice sang dangerously close to his ear.

He spun, finding himself face to face with what he judged by her forward demeanor to be a seventh year. "Yes?"

"The Headmaster said you wanted to talk to students about our needs and concerns," she continued, sidling a step closer, rolling a lock of her long black hair coyly around one finger. Because of the ball, she was dressed in a floor length, figure-hugging green silk dress that revealed more than Lucius thought proper for a schoolgirl. "I have needs that I think you can help me with."

"Slytherin?" he guessed, edging backward.

"Hufflepuff," she corrected him, pressing forward. "What would you like to know? I'm eighteen, broke up with my boyfriend a month ago, and think you're incredibly fine."

Lucius cleared his throat, glancing desperately around for the giant oaf who, until this minute, had hovered at his elbow like a mother hen. "That's….nice," he hedged. "Why don't we sit down?" Like a true gentleman he pulled out a chair for the girl at a nearby empty table, then scrambled around to sit opposite her, placing as much distance as possible between them.

The girl reached out to snatch his hands, which he'd thoughtlessly laid in front of him on the table. "Oh, so strong! Do you mind if I call you Lucius?"

The man frantically jerked his hands away, then tried for a casual save by smiling stiffly and crossing his arms over his chest. "Mr. Malfoy will be fine." He wiggled his baby finger for her benefit, showing off an antique gold band set with a string of emeralds running all the way around. "I'm married."

"Oh," the girl pouted, throwing herself undaintily back against her chair, her tone suddenly reverting to boredom. "So what did you want to ask?"

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Bellatrix had taken on Frank Longbottom and Remus, who'd finally recovered enough to get up, her curses streaming as fast as she could think them, her reflexes lightning quick. The men were no slouches, either; every time a green jet shot their way, they dodged and leaped out of the way. Two more Order members had since Apparated in, both of whom turned their wands on Snape, who'd risen from the ground barely in time to block their _expelliarmus_ and another hex, his practice at dueling the Marauders keeping him in good stead.

Off to the side, away from the others, Sirius and Regulus were locked in a vicious duel the likes of which neither of them had ever encountered.

"Give it up, you little bastard!" Sirius hissed at him, his voice unnoticed by anyone else amid the shouting and hexing.

"Can't do that," Regulus answered, no longer wondering if his brother had guessed who he was fighting. He blocked another jinx and shot back a spell that narrowly missed. "Why don't you leave while you can?"

Sirius threw two hexes in a row, the second one singeing Regulus' robes. "You're the ones who are outnumbered."

As if to jab home the point, Alice Longbottom cast a killing curse that struck Wilkes. He fell, dead before he hit the earth.

Regulus' eyes grew wide, though he fought on. "Since when do aurors use Unforgivables?"

"Since the Ministry gave them the authority," Sirius growled.

Lily and Rodolphus, meanwhile were engaged in their own tense battle, and the inexperienced girl was on the losing end, barely able to hold him off let alone throw curses of her own. Once more Severus glanced her way, a gleam of terror cutting through him. Rodolphus didn't play around, he'd kill her! He blocked another curse and tossed out three in quick succession, knocking one Order member so hard he flew backward to smack against a tree trunk. No, there was Alice together with Lily assailing Rodolphus. He felt guilty for the relief it brought.

An ominous ripple ran through the crowd of battlers. Dumbledore! Instantly the Death Eaters began to Disapparate, as per orders; Rodolphus latched onto Wilkes' body as he disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a blasted-to-pieces Benjy Fenwick, a severely wounded James Potter, and scars across the house and yard from the plethora of curses.

"Albus!" half of them shouted in unison.

Dumbledore held up a hand as he took in the scene, saddened and sickened. He'd have been here only a few seconds earlier if the floo network hadn't been cursed, forcing him to floo to Hogsmeade and Apparate from there. He highly doubted that in those seconds he could have prevented this. He hurried over to see what assistance he might offer Potter.

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"I didn't come to the ball for this," stated the boy, who looked all of fifteen. "I'm only wasting my time with you because my Head of House told me to."

_Gryffindor_ screamed from the boy's arrogant face; a pin on his lapel confirmed it. Lucius resisted the urge to crush his skinny frame like a bug, which would have been a simple feat either with or without his wand. Regardless of personal sentiments, if Slytherin's Head of House told his students to do something, they'd do it without a scene. Tempted as he was to stand up and fling the boy unceremoniously into the chair, he merely gestured with one hand while drawling smoothly, "Obedience is a virtue."

The boy sat. "What do you want?"

_To kick your snarky little arse, you insufferable brat!_ "Do you participate in any extracurricular activities such as Herbology projects, assisting Madame Pomfrey, wizard chess club, Quidditch?" Lucius had to hold back an amused snort at the last word.

"No, why?"

"What a surprise, such a pleasant young man having no outside interests," drawled the other with a sneer. "I suppose I have no further use for you then, seeing as you can offer no insight into necessary equipment." He gave a dismissive wave as a king would dismiss a servant. "Off with you." Lucius heaved a weary breath. Ten students was plenty, in addition to professors he'd spoken to. How he longed to go home, but he had a very important appointment with Lord Voldemort that he dared not miss.

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Everyone had gone by the time Lucius arrived, all except Bellatrix and Lord Voldemort himself. Lucius hustled into the castle at a near run and skidded to a stop at the dark lord's brooding form. He dropped to his knees, head down.

"You're extremely late, Malfoy," came the frosty voice.

"Forgive me, master. I'd gone to Hogwarts under the pretext of interviewing students, so after Dumbledore left I…" He cleared his throat, which felt terribly dry. "I was compelled to do so in order to complete the façade."

Bellatrix shook her fist at him from a few meters away. "While you were chatting up the girls at Hogwarts, Wilkes got murdered by one of the aurors!" she screeched.

Lucius paused, feeling sympathy for the man's family, and said mildly, "You didn't even like Wilkes."

"That Potter puke isn't dead!" she bellowed. "He's gotten away twice, he deserves to die!"

Voldemort lifted a pale hand and she silenced immediately. "Get up, Lucius. The raid was a success inasmuch as one of their scum members was exterminated."

Bellatrix actually giggled in remembrance.

"Potter was wounded by Snape, a spell he invented himself," the dark lord continued, evidently appeased enough by this knowledge that he could excuse the scarcity of deaths. "As none of their number knows the countercurse, it is possible the blood traitor will die. If not, he will be badly scarred, as ordinary magic and medicine can do little for it. He will carry a reminder of this night." A semblance of a smile, or perhaps a snarl, twisted his mouth.

"I'm pleased to hear it," Lucius rejoined honestly. The raid—HIS raid—had been deemed a success!

With a withering glance in Bella's direction, Voldemort said, "In spite of Bellatrix's vocal protests, I commend you on your planning of this raid. You're finally showing yourself to be as useful as I'd hoped when you came to me as a boy."

A broad smile broke over Lucius' face. "Thank you, my lord! I'm truly honored."

"You may go now. Go celebrate with your wife."

The leer coming his way made Lucius' skin crawl, but he bowed and headed for the door. He doubted there'd be much celebrating going on if Narcissa knew what had occurred this night.


	42. Chapter 42

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Two

"Severus, is that boil removing cream finished?" asked Philana, poking her head into the back room.

"Right here," he answered. He picked up a sealed tin, carried it over, and plopped it in her hand, receiving a warm smile in return. She was a kindly woman, a good employer even if it had taken her two full months to learn his name.

She ducked out to complete the transaction with her customer, then returned minutes later. As was most often the case, Severus had his face situated over a steaming cauldron, his expression no longer glum as in days passed. Now he looked absolutely wretched. She poured each of them a cup of coffee, pulled up a stool, and sat down at the sizable table, pushing his cup closer to him.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong, son? I've been around a lot longer than you have, I'll understand."

A pair of unreadable black eyes flicked up at her, then resumed their vigil with the potion. "Glenna married someone else," he said in a hushed voice.

"Oh, Severus!" Philana clasped his hand in hers, making him uncomfortable while simultaneously creating a lump in his throat. He'd told her a little about his girlfriend and their split, which he'd intended to mend….too late now. "You poor baby! I'm sorry."

He wasn't used to sharing his sorrows, and her outpouring of sympathy struck him hard. Had she ignored him or shown indifference, he'd have no trouble hiding his pain, but to encounter compassion tore his heart open anew, making him want to sob like a child. It was unacceptable.

Severus slowly withdrew his hand, clenched his jaw, and shoved the emotions down as he'd done all his life. He'd permit no one to witness the shame of him crumbling like a biscuit, he had some semblance of dignity left. "Thank you, Philana, for your concern, but I don't care to discuss it." He turned back to his potion.

The old woman nodded. How typical of a man, even a young one like this! He'd never learn to heal properly if he couldn't let the poisonous sentiments out, yet he'd never believe her if she tried to tell him so. Better to change the subject. "All my customers have high praise for my new lad," she smiled, eliciting an interested glance from him. "You're the best potions maker I've ever seen, Severus, and I'm not trying to butter you up."

"Thank you," he murmured. Was that almost a grin?

"When you get famous, make sure people know you worked for me, huh?" she winked.

"I'll do that." Yes, it was definitely a grin.

Philana took a sip of her coffee, an idea suddenly alighting in her brain. "Professor Slughorn told me you were the best pupil he ever taught, that you studied many things ordinary students don't, so maybe you can help out. Do you remember hearing about the Death Eater attack over at the Potter house?"

Severus froze, all save his eyes, which widened slightly. He mumbled something to the effect that it had been all over the news. His heart kicked up to beat like a snare drum, his mind racing. Did she suspect he had anything to do with it? Face impassive, he stared down into the forgotten potion, unseeing.

She went on, blithely unaware of his discomfort. "The Potter boy, he was in your class, wasn't he?"

"Yes," choked out Snape through a constricted throat.

"He got hit with a Dark Art curse nobody seems to know how to counter. Albus managed to stop the bleeding with a cartload of spells, and they stitched him up tight, but it's been a couple of weeks and Albus says he's not healing very well. It's slow going and will leave a terrible thick scar. You wouldn't know of an extraordinary skin mending remedy, would you?"

_It's a trick. She's been drafted by the aurors to make me incriminate myself._ "No, I've never heard of any such cure," he answered calmly, trying to speak clearly as his tongue wrapped itself around the heart beating in his mouth.

"Ah, well, it was worth a try," the woman sighed. "I feel bad for the poor boy is all."

"I don't," Severus said quietly. "He was a bully."

Philana looked up at him in surprise, though he merely continued to study the now-ruined potion bubbling away under his nose. "A bully?"

"Yes. He and his cronies tormented me mercilessly throughout school. If he's suffering now, it's nothing worse than he deserves."

"Severus, I'm sorry to hear that." Philana considered reaching out to take his hand again but decided against it; the lad obviously felt ill at ease with physical contact. Before she'd even met Severus, Albus had mentioned far too vaguely something about the boy's troubled home life and his 'rivalries' at school. This was the closest thing to opening up he'd reached in all the time he'd worked here, she didn't want to spoil it.

As if snapping out of a trance, Severus let out a very nasty phrase, snatched the cauldron off the fire, and rushed it to the sink. While cleaning up the burnt mess he apologized, "I'm sorry, Philana, I wasn't paying attention. I'll start over."

"It's alright, son, it was partly my fault for jabbering away and taking your mind off your work. Even the most talented potions masters ruin a brew from time to time. Go on home, it's almost quitting time. You can start fresh tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am." He hung up the sparkling cauldron and nodded to her on the way out. _Start fresh_. That's what he liked about potions, there was opportunity to try again after a failure. If only life allowed for fresh starts, only it didn't. He'd lost Glenna, there would be no more chances. He'd become a Death Eater, despised and rejected by the decent world, that was all he'd ever be. No amount of cleaning could ever change that.

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"Narcissa, to be blunt, if I paid one galleon for a meal, I'd think I was being extravagant," Severus protested. "Thirty galleons buys a month's worth of groceries, I can't afford to pay that to come to a fundraiser, even if the proceeds are to go to Hogwarts."

"Don't be silly, Severus, I wouldn't ask you to donate that kind of money!" exclaimed the woman. "You'd be our guest."

"Oh, I feel so much better being a charity case myself," sneered the other sarcastically. He took a note from his pocket, waving it in his fingers as he said, "Next time you invite me for a chat, I'll have to pass." He got up off the sofa.

Narcissa sprang up from her chair to push him back down, then took a seat beside him, her expression penitent. "I didn't mean it like that. Lucius really wants you to come, and so do I. How could he expect you to pay to come to his party?"

"I presume everyone else will contribute," returned Severus, somewhat irritated at being reminded of his lowly status.

"You're not everyone else. You're his best friend."

"His poverty stricken friend, you mean." He got up once more and wrapped his cloak around him, the cloak Narcissa had given him for Christmas last year, the irony of it not lost on him. When he looked over at Narcissa to take his leave, he hesitated, his annoyance vanishing. Two great tears hung precariously at the corners of her eyes before rolling down her cheeks, shaming him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"No, I'm sorry," she replied, wiping at the wetness. "I didn't intend to insult you."

"I know."

"Lucius will be upset with me, he'll think I made you angry," she went on as more tears replaced those she'd brushed off.

Severus took a seat beside her, forcing himself to ignore his own insecurities in order to place an arm around her shoulders. Offering comfort was not his strong suit. "Don't cry. Lucius won't blame you, he'll just call me an ungrateful git and that'll be the end of it."

In spite of herself, Narcissa laughed, which buoyed Severus' spirits.

"He'd probably call you more than that," she said with a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "No one would guess it to look at him because he acts his role so well, but he hates parties. To have people around that he cares about makes it more bearable for him."

Indeed. Severus recalled Lucius confiding that very thing at his twenty-first birthday party. Would it kill him to suffer through one night, a very important night for Lucius? This Millennium Anniversary Ball to celebrate the thousand year mark of the founding of Hogwarts would be the event of the year—or the decade—possibly century! Which was precisely why he didn't want to be there. He freely admitted he was not, as some might say, a 'people person'. As a high-profile charity fundraiser, this would be attended by hundreds of people, by everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world. He would feel like he was being scrutinized by the entire population…he was beginning to see why Lucius detested these soirees.

"Fine, I'll come," he grumped. "But I can't promise to be good company."

Narcissa threw her arms around his thin frame, squeezing with a strength that belied her stature. "Oh, Severus, you're such a doll!"

He grimaced in reply. This should be a smashing way to begin the New Year, attending a snob fest. He could hardly wait.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As Severus had surmised, the Millennium Ball was the talk of Britain's wizarding inhabitants for six weeks before New Year's Eve rolled around. Nearly every person of any distinction—or those with enough cash for a ticket—was in attendance at Malfoy Manor, from the Minister of Magic to Albus Dumbledore to the up-and-coming young Gilderoy Lockhart. With just over a thousand guests, not only was the ballroom packed, so was every room in the vicinity, as well as the back lawn, which had been charmed to ward off the cold. House elves borrowed from the Blacks and the Lestranges helped manage the numerous tables of food set up at various locations, served drinks, and removed soiled dishes and napkins. As was to be expected from a Malfoy gala, everything was running smoothly.

While Lucius entertained guests, including members of the Board, on the balcony and Abraxas mixed with his many friends and acquaintances, Narcissa cheerfully performed her hostess duties which, at the moment, consisted of listening to Gilderoy Lockhart prattle on about himself. She nodded and smiled, unable to get in a word, her eyes wandering past him to alight on none other than Sirius' stupid friend James Potter and a redhead. Why did she seem familiar? When comprehension struck her, she wrinkled her nose as if inhaling a putrid odor.

"What is it, my dear Narcissa?" asked Gilderoy, for once stopping the chatter of his own exploits.

The woman inclined her head slightly to the left and motioned with her eyes. Lockhart turned, saw Potter, and did the unthinkable: he waved and called him over. To Narcissa's horror, James and Lily made their way through the crowd.

Ever the proper hostess, Narcissa smiled pleasantly. "I trust you're having a good time."

They didn't get a chance to answer, for Lockhart blurted, "How have you been? Did you know they were a year behind me in school, Narcissa? Why, I remember meeting James during a clandestine incident in the bathroom with Potter and his 'friend'." He winked and glanced around curiously. "Where is he?"

"I wouldn't know, I don't think he's here," James replied, blushing.

"And who's this?"

"My fiancé, Lily Evans," said James proudly.

"Fiancé?" exclaimed Gilderoy, rather confused now. "But you and Sirius, I thought you were—_you_ know." He winked again.

Lily spoke up. "What is he talking about?"

"It was a joke, me and Sirius were pretending to be, er, _close_." James' face turned so red he resembled a cherry capped by messy black hair.

"Aaah," said Gilderoy, winking as if he'd developed a tick. "I get it. It was a _joke_. Well, don't worry, no one will hear from me that your 'fiancé' isn't the real deal. Oh, excuse me!" He tore off to captivate a book publisher with tales of his accomplishments.

Smirking, Narcissa merely said, "I didn't know you and Sirius were so _close_. As I recall, you were panting after this mu—Muggleborn for years."

"Lockhart's an idiot, we were just teasing him," James explained, feeling the need to justify himself and embarrassed at the flush he felt burning his face.

Ignoring his comment, Narcissa addressed Lily in a blatantly condescending tone. "I don't blame you. If I were—God forbid—in your position and hadn't yet taken my own life from the shame of it, I'd want to marry up into society, too, even if I had to take a man who was more interested in my brother than in me." She flashed a perfect, innocent smile and walked off leaving the two fuming.

"What a bitch!" they said together.

Lucius, meanwhile, peeped down from the balcony at his wife, who was on her way up. He excused himself from his fellow governors to go over to meet her. "Everything is fine, I take it."

Narcissa pursed her lips, the forehead between her brows wrinkling slightly. "Not exactly. James Potter brought his little mudblood with him. It's nauseating. What is this world coming to?"

Her husband guided her as far away from the guests as he could before speaking. "Unfortunately, anyone with thirty galleons to spare had the opportunity to come. I can't make a fuss over it with the governors here, not if I care to win their support."

"I wouldn't do anything to undermine you, love," she cooed, planting a kiss on his lips.

Leering, he retorted, "Then stop trying to make me horny in public."

"I wasn't aware I had to try," she said, laughing as she departed.

Rolling over Lucius' comment in her mind and smiling at the thought, she failed to pay proper attention and ran smack into Severus coming up the curved staircase. They both lost their footing, stumbled for a split second, and pitched backward down the stairs. Were it not for quick reflexes on the lad's part, they might have tumbled headlong all the way down; instead, Severus made a grab for the rail at the same instant Narcissa wrapped herself around his waist. They jerked to a halt with a brutal strain on Severus shoulder joint. Shakily they stood up.

"Narcissa, what the hell?" he hissed, prying her claws out of his ribs and starting to massage his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Blinking back a look of panic at what had almost happened, breathing hard, Narcissa responded guardedly, "Yes. I must have tripped." Prudence and embarrassment demanded she not divulge the reason for her inattention. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." He had taken out his wand and performed a healing spell already. "Try to be more careful."

She gave him a light pat on the back, clutched the rail, and continued on her way.

Severus watched her until she reached the bottom, then climbed to the landing and let his eyes roam over the hordes of guests. He'd spoken with only a few people so far, including Nott and his new wife, both of whom seemed quite happy in their marriage. It didn't surprise him all that much, in truth. Nott was no scholar, but he was a stand up guy, willing to share his thoughts and emotions, which for some godforsaken reason women insisted upon and reveled in. Dumbledore had taken a few minutes away from the throng longing to assail him to ask how Severus' job was going and how his mother was doing. He'd been very kind, in the young man's estimation.

Then he saw her—saw _them_ on the ballroom floor. Mulciber and Glenna were at that moment approaching Nott and Fidelia. While bitter animosity roiled beneath the surface toward Jack, his eyes were riveted on the young woman. Even from here on the balcony he saw the beginning of her baby bulge poking against her gown, and it made his heart ache. That should be _his_ wife and _his_ baby, and they would be if it hadn't been for his obstinate refusal to give Glenna the security she craved. As much as he wanted to hate Jack, it was his own blasted fault!

He turned away. Why had he let Narcissa guilt him into coming tonight? He'd hoped for a diversion to forget Glenna for a while, and there she was! He should go. No one would miss him anyway.

"There you are, Severus," drawled Lucius, coming to stand beside him. "You look bored to tears." A quick glance beyond Severus' shoulder, down to the floor, let him know any tears were likely not from boredom. "Would you like a drink—oh, I forgot, you don't drink."

"I'm not thirsty, Lucius. I think I'm going home."

Tempted as Lucius was to argue, he could appreciate Severus' pain. When Narcissa had called off their engagement due to a huge misunderstanding involving a girl, he'd been heartbroken, but he'd also been lucky; they made up and were wed. Severus' chance for that was passed.

He extended a hand for his friend to shake. "I understand. I apologize for not showing you a good time."

"Your party's great, evidently," Severus answered, attempting a grin and failing miserably. "It's my problem, not yours."

"We _are_ friends, you know. You can talk to me."

Severus nodded more to appease him than from agreement. He didn't want to talk, to dig and pick at the wound until it bled profusely again. "I'd rather just go. Thank you for the invitation." Needing no directions to the floo network, as he'd used it often enough, he was soon gone in a puff of powder.

Lucius made his way back to the Board members. "I think it's time." They all rallied around him as he placed his wand to his throat to amplify his voice and announced, "My esteemed guests, may I have your attention."

The hubbub quieted almost immediately. Faces looked up at him expectantly as multitudes poured in from other rooms, jamming the ballroom to the point of bursting. He waited until he'd estimated most of the people were present.

"First and foremost, thank you for coming. Please join me in making a toast to my beautiful wife, Narcissa, who planned and orchestrated this whole event to make it a huge success. Narcissa, where are you?" Amid the thunderous applause and raising of glasses, Narcissa Apparated onto the balcony beside her husband, flushing with pride. To her astonishment, Lucius looked her straight in the eye with those incredibly sexy gray orbs that twinkled with mischief, clutched her by the hips, and kissed her hard on the mouth, causing another explosive wave of applause and cheers.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed, both flustered and pleased.

"To my wife." He raised a glass of wine and drank deeply. He then placed the wand to his throat again. "Many thanks to my father, Abraxas Malfoy, for allowing us to hold the Millennium Ball in his home. Father, come up and be recognized."

Abraxas, too, Apparated in beside his son. Smiling broadly, he waved to the appreciative crowd as he growled while scarcely moving his lips, "If you kiss me I'll beat your ass."

"O-kay," Lucius murmured, deliberately taking a step away. Even though he'd had no intention of kissing the man, better safe than sorry. "Here is the moment we on the Governing Board of Hogwarts have been waiting for. Let's welcome Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts." He joined in the clapping until Dumbledore stood on the balcony, at which time the other governors came up to shake his hand. "Headmaster, we are proud to announce that this gala celebration has netted for Hogwarts a grand total of _thirty thousand galleons_!"

Hoots of surprise and glee rang through the audience. Dumbledore looked so shocked Lucius feared he might have given the old man a heart attack, then suddenly the old wizard smiled and started to laugh. He slapped Lucius on the back, using his own wand to amplify his words for the crowd, "I've no proper words to thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I must suffice it to say 'thank you'!" More applause drowned out anything else he might have said.

Abraxas pointed his wand at the ceiling, which went so clear it looked to be either invisible or missing. All necks craned upward, everyone wondering what this meant. All at once from out of nowhere brilliant flames of colored light burst into fireworks that divided into four sections, each one of which continued a series of blasts that popped, whistled, and exploded until four distinct faces appeared above: the four founders of Hogwarts. Amid the 'oohing' and 'aahing' from the spectators, the figures drew together, melding and reshaping to take the form of Hogwarts School. Finally, the school exploded into precisely one thousand particles that proceeded to arrange themselves into _Happy Millennial Anniversary_. The words hung in the sky for several seconds before exploding a final time into a glorious firework display.

After the thrilled applause died down, Lucius placed his wand to his throat once more. "Thank you all for your support, we couldn't have done it without you. We'll begin dancing shortly, and later tonight there will be a lengthy fireworks display on the back lawn. Please enjoy yourselves."

"You did beautifully, Lucius," Narcissa cooed, sidling up close. "You make me so proud of you."

"Good," he whispered in her ear. "Later you can show me how proud."

He turned a bit at the sound of a 'pop' behind him, irritated to see Dobby, who thankfully tugged on Abraxas' pantleg instead of bothering Lucius. The elf mumbled something, then Abraxas disappeared, followed by Dobby. They Apparated in the downstairs main living area where the lone Regulus lay sprawled on the couch with a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey gripped in his hand, trailing the floor. The man strode over and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

Regulus leaped up, swinging the bottle up to cradle it to his chest. His eyes were glassy and dazed. "Oh, I thought you were my dad." He started to lie down again but Abraxas jerked him upright.

"You're lucky I'm not Orion!" he scolded, yanking the bottle from the boy's fist. "But he's in the ballroom, it would be no trouble to fetch him."

"No! Please," Regulus groaned. He tried to stand up, wobbled a bit, and fell back on his rear.

"Do you make a habit of getting drunk when you go to parties?" demanded the man.

"Well…yeah," Regulus answered honestly. "It's so boring, there's no single girls to talk to."

"That's hardly a flattering commentary," remarked Abraxas dryly.

Regulus leaned back, letting his head flop onto the back of the sofa, his face aimed toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes and immediately felt the room begin to spin. "Sorry, Mr. Malfoy." An involuntary giggle propelled its way up his throat.

"What's so funny, Regulus?"

"I don't know," confessed the boy, laughing in earnest now.

With a disgusted exhalation of breath, Abraxas shook his head. He should probably send the boy home, although in his condition Apparition might not be ideal in that he might not arrive in one piece. He could floo him home, or have Dobby take him, only then he'd have to explain to Orion why he'd taken it upon himself to deal with the boy when his parents were present and it was their responsibility.

"I wish Sirius was here," Regulus was saying, to Abraxas' consternation. "He was always loads of fun."

It was the alcohol talking, he knew; Regulus wasn't dimwitted enough to say a thing like that sober. Abraxas smacked him gently on the top of the head, prompting him to open his eyes. "You'd best not talk that way about a blood traitor. Your parents would have a fit."

"Yes, sir," he agreed, only to ramble on, "How come you're not mad about Sirius' friend Potter? He brought a mudblood to the party."

"What?" shouted Abraxas. "Are you telling me the truth?"

"Yes, sir! You can ask Lucius, he knows." Regulus shut his eyes again. He felt so tired and dizzy. He kind of liked the way the room was spinning.

"Dobby, bring Lucius here," commanded the man.

The elf disappeared, to reappear seconds later clinging to the young man's robes. Lucius slapped the creature away, then kicked at him for good measure. "Keep your repulsive paws off me! How dare you—" A throat clearing caused him to spin around to see his father glaring at him, and he stopped cold. "Father, did you send Dobby for me?"

For a long moment Abraxas didn't trust himself to speak. There had to be an explanation, Lucius would not defy his authority this way. True, he'd defied him innumerable times in the past, but not in this way. He forced himself to calm. "Yes, I did. It's come to my attention that not only are there a mudblood and a blood traitor galavanting about my house, but my son knew all about it. Would you care to explain?"

_Dammit, why does he always ask questions he knows I don't want to answer?_ "I only found out a little while ago." _Weak, Malfoy, pathetically weak excuse._

"I wouldn't suggest making a scene in front of our guests, but I'm ordering you to get that filth out of my house."

"How do you propose I do that without making a scene, Father?"

"You let them in, you figure it out."

"I didn't let them in, an elf did!" Lucius snapped nastily, then hastily changed his tone to conciliatory at the ire growing before his eyes in his father's face. "I can't very well make them leave. Potter paid for his tickets."

Even though Abraxas hadn't moved from his spot, Lucius direly wanted to take a step—or five or six—backward. The older man replied slowly, coldly, "Reimburse him."

This was ruining everything! If Lucius stormed down there demanding Potter and Evans leave, it would only add fuel to the fire of those who claimed him a bigot or worse. He had worked too hard to get where he was to let it crumble so easily! Regardless of his brain trying to overrule his mouth, he spouted, "There are probably other mudbloods and blood traitors here that we don't know about. Why don't we give everyone their money back, then we'll have nothing left to donate to Hogwarts. That would really give a boost to the family name."

Abraxas instinctively raised a hand to strike his son for his insolence, then paused. It truly would look bad for Lucius to return to the bash with a handprint on his face, no matter how well deserved. Even though it could be charmed away, he instead grabbed the young man's bicep and squeezed painfully, satisfied with the young man's grimace. "Let's not pretend there's any altruism going on here, _Governor_. This whole Millennium Ball is to make yourself look good and gain you more control on the Board."

"How would you know that?"

_Does the boy's cheek know no bounds?_ "Because you're my son. It's my job to know."

"You left out the part about the son imitating his father," Lucius responded with a hint of a smirk.

_Apparently his impertinence is limitless!_ Abraxas smiled wryly, while his eyes shot daggers. In his smooth, controlled drawl that dripped with danger, he warned, "I didn't say your motivations were a bad thing, did I? I'm simply observing. Now get that blood traitor and his mudblood out of my house or you'll be very sorry when this party is over, I can promise you."

He let go of his son's arm and walked off without a backward glance. Lucius unconsciously rubbed his bruised bicep while uttering every swear word he knew. He didn't want them here any more than Father did! Yet how was he supposed to follow orders while ensuring the Board still saw him as the good guy? It was impossible! And whether his father wanted to believe it or not, it _would_ reflect badly on the Malfoy name among non-purebloods, and unfortunately there were far more of them than there were purebloods. His eyes drifted to the sofa where Regulus was still reclining, and realization dawned on him.

He kicked the boy's foot, startling him. "You're the one who told Father about Potter, aren't you?"

Regulus grinned sheepishly. "Kind of."

Lucius grabbed the front of his robes, dragged him to his feet, and shook him until his head flopped like a rag doll. "What did I tell you about keeping your mouth shut?"

"I thought that was in front of the master!"

"It's _always_! Now Father's pissed at me and it's your fault!" He lifted one hand for a tremendous wallop. "It looks like I need to teach you again!"

"Wait!" Regulus shrieked, throwing his arms up for protection and speaking so fast it came out as one long word. "Don't-hit-me-and-I'll-help-you-get-rid-of-Potter-and-the-mudblood!"

Hand still poised, Lucius eyed him skeptically. "I'm listening."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Regulus stumbled through the mob, his mission blazing in the front of his mind. This would work out well for him as well as for Lucius, since Orion was likely to be more kindly disposed toward finding out about his drunkenness if it were attached to putting mudbloods in their place. It didn't take him long to come upon his quarry; in fact, he literally knocked into Potter from behind when he accidentally tripped over his own feet.

"Watch it," James said, moving aside.

"Make me, mudblood lover," retorted Regulus, straightening up.

Lily intervened. "James, ignore him."

"No, Lily. He has no right—"

He didn't get to finish. Regulus' fist clipped his jaw, sending him flying backward into a crowd of people. James charged forward, ramming his head into Regulus' stomach. From the balcony, Lucius watched with amusement and relief; mission accomplished. He turned to a group of guests, including three of the governors.

"It looks like I need to expel someone from the celebration. Some people can't hold their liquor, I'm afraid. If you'll excuse me."


	43. Chapter 43

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Three

**May 4, 1979 (Four months after the Millennium Ball)**

"Are you going to sit there like a lump all afternoon or do you plan to speak sometime in the near future?" asked Severus snidely as he observed his friend staring fixedly at the television, where he'd been since he arrived half an hour ago.

"Huh," grunted Regulus, unable to tear his eyes away from the western in which (complete surprise here) cowboys and Indians and cavalry were having a full scale battle.

"Well, that's a start," sneered the other. He sat down, deliberately jamming an elbow into Black's side.

"This T-V thing is amazing," said Regulus, reaching out for the fourth time to touch the screen as if perhaps he could reach right inside, and getting the same look of disappointment when his hand struck the glass. "How come wizards don't have cool stuff like this?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Make the picture change like you did before," entreated the younger boy, almost bouncing up and down with excitement.

"How old are you again—five?" asked Severus with a smirk, expecting the kid to begin clapping any minute.

"Just turned eighteen," answered the other as if he hadn't caught the sarcasm. "And it's not my fault I never got to have a toy like this."

"It's not a toy…just turn the knob."

Regulus took hold of the indicated knob and twisted it to the right. An advertisement for toothpaste graced the screen as a smile spread over his face. He seemed every bit as enthralled by that as he'd been by the western. Snape poked him in the ribs, prompting him to crank the knob again. A courtroom drama. Another click produced a talk show of some sort.

"This is so fantastic!" he squealed, giddy with the power at his fingertips.

"Okay, enough." Severus stood up and clicked the machine off. The picture rapidly shrank in toward the center of the screen until only a dot of light remained.

"What'd you do that for?" asked Regulus crossly, throwing himself against the back of the couch.

"I'm afraid it may be too much for you to handle," replied Severus dryly. "You need to take it in small doses."

"Asshole," sulked the other.

Severus gave another smirk. "Addicted already? Before your mind was sucked out by the boob tube, I thought you said you came here to tell me something."

_I was stalling, moron_, Regulus griped to himself. The television had afforded him the perfect, riveting opportunity to forget why he'd come. Now there was no excuse for delay. He'd come with news, now was as good a time as any to deliver it. Finding his eyes flitting everywhere but at Snape, he said, "Well, you know my family is friendly with, um, Jack's family?" He paused to allow Severus time to rail inwardly. "I heard Glenna had the baby a few days ago. It's a girl, in case you wondered."

Tight lipped, Severus shot back, "Why would I care?"

Regulus shrugged, ducking his head. "I think you should go see Glenna, congratulate her."

"And WHY would I do that?" demanded Snape, his black eyes boring a hole in the top of Regulus' head.

"Because you still love her, and maybe being friends would be better than never seeing her again."

For being a seemingly naïve little dork, Black was remarkably perceptive, Severus grumbled to himself. Nevertheless he growled, "First of all, you need to learn to mind your own business. I don't know where you come by your delusions, but I have no intention of presenting myself for ridicule and/or rejection. I thank you for your misguided concern, now drop it or I'll bash your head in."

"You're welcome," Regulus retorted as sarcastically as he dared, considering the upcoming request. "Can I watch more of the magic Muggle T-V?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Since the smashing success of the Millennium Ball, Lucius' life had gotten easier, at least regarding his job. The other governors, for the most part, had come around to seeing that Malfoy was a force to be reckoned with, and whether they liked or loathed him as a man, they supported him as an integral cog in the wheel that made money appear in their coffers.

Returning to his office after one of their Board meetings, Lucius was smiling and humming a little tune as he rounded a corner. The tune caught in his throat and his smile vanished upon spying Arthur Weasley with one of his redheaded Weaslettes in tow blocking the hallway. He glanced about furtively, then very quietly took a couple of silent steps backward. If he could escape unnoticed, he wouldn't have to deal with the ankle-biter. Arthur was no problem at all, but those blasted brats…

He backed around the corner. _Good, well done, Malfoy._ He spun around right into one of the older Weasley boys, all of eight or nine years old, nearly knocking the child to the floor; the shock sent his heart racing. Quickly composing himself, he raised an eyebrow and glared at the boy. "What are you doing slinking about the Ministry?"

"I'm not, sir. I just went to the loo."

"Well…off with you." Lucius made to leave.

Instead of obeying, Bill cried out, "Dad, Mr. Malfoy is here!"

Lucius glared again. "Was that necessary?"

Bill shrugged as he wiped a sleeve across his nose, making Lucius want to retch. "Dad wants to talk to you."

"Perhaps I'm busy."

"I won't take much time, Lucius," said Arthur, who'd popped around the corner with his curtain climber attached to his leg. "I meant to make it to the open Board meeting last week, but family obligations and all."

"Hmm," replied Lucius with what he tried to pass off for a pleasant smile but which came off as more of a disdainful grimace. He'd have to work on that. "What is it, Arthur?"

"Bill here, he won't be attending Hogwarts for a couple of years, but Molly and I thought it would be nice if there were classes available for children before going to Hogwarts."

"Hasn't he been taught at home?" inquired Lucius, thoroughly surprised. Every witch and wizard he knew had taken private lessons in the basics from tutors or at the very least their parents.

"Of course Molly's taught him to read and write and such, but I meant organized classes with children of the same age," explained Arthur.

"Those already exist. They're called Muggle schools," said Lucius drolly. "I should think you'd latch onto the chance to hobnob with the beasts."

Getting his dander up, Arthur responded, "The fact that they don't have magic doesn't make them beasts. I've known purebloods who are less civilized."

"Ah, touche, Arthur. I presume present company is excepted."

Whether Weasley agreed or not was to be left up in the air, for yet another dust-stained, redheaded boy of about six came strolling down the hall with his hands in his pockets. "Charlie, where have you been?"

"I don't know," admitted the lad. "Bill left me by a fireplace and I went in and got sucked up and—"

"Charlie Weasley! Are you telling me you used the floo network without permission?" barked his father.

The boy grinned. "Well, I just stepped in when a lady was leavin', and then she sent me back." He looked rather proud of himself.

"Bill, how could you leave him! I should tan both your hides!"

Lucius cocked an ear. He'd been of the impression that the Weasleys were incapable of disciplining their brood.

All the commotion brought Molly Weasley scurrying up the corridor from the direction of Lucius' office pushing a stroller with two identical tots. "Arthur, what's wrong?"

"My God, is this the Hall of Weasleys?" Lucius exclaimed. The other two adults looked over at him, then resumed their chatter. He hadn't exactly meant to blurt it aloud, and made a mental note to practice more censorship. He was slipping.

He glanced down at the babies, who appeared to be between twelve to fifteen months old. _Pity they'll be raised like the rest of the Weasleys_, he thought. At that moment the twins turned their faces up at him at precisely the same instant, faces tilted at precisely the same angle; Lucius could swear an evil glint played in their eyes. They stared unabashedly at him to the point of making him feel foolishly uncomfortable, then turned their heads to babble at each other and laugh. If Lucius didn't know babies were incapable of such things, he'd believe they'd been mocking him, or perhaps plotting against him.

Arthur addressed Lucius while leveling a displeased frown at his sons. "I'm sorry, Lucius, I'll have to catch up with you another time."

"Not a problem, Arthur. What with costs and liabilities, I doubt there's much the Board can do in the way of instituting classes anyway." Lucius nodded to the adults and carefully skirted around the stroller as the twins locked him in their disturbingly piercing gaze.

If it weren't completely irrational, he'd have bolted for his office to escape the creepy little imps, though once he'd marched inside in a dignified manner, he shut the door and leaned heavily against it. He hoped he wouldn't have nightmares of being stalked by cuddly redheaded demons.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Why did he do this to himself? What insane, masochistic compulsion drove him to come here? Severus stood on the doorstep clenching and unclenching his fists, turned and started down the steps, hesitated, then spun around and came back. He could be a man about this. He was nineteen, not nine.

His knock was answered by a house elf he recognized from the many times he'd been here when they were dating. "I'd like to speak to Glenna," he said curtly.

The elf disappeared leaving him standing at the open door like an idiot. He could still leave, there was time for that. But no, he'd come to see her and that's what he intended to do. Not until a shadow crossed in front of him did he wonder why he hadn't considered that her husband might not take kindly to his wife visiting with her old lover.

Mulciber suddenly filled the void in the doorway, his sturdy form contrasting with Snape's lanky one. "What are you doing here?"

Severus motioned inside, his voice unwavering. "I came to congratulate Glenna—and you—on your new daughter."

Without a word Jack shoved him hard in the chest, pushing him back, then stepped out onto the porch with him and closed the door. "That's rich, Snape, really rich. Maybe I should be the one saying that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You can quit pretending, I'm not as stupid as you and my dad give me credit for!" seethed Jack, his eyes narrowed, his tone bitter. "I know the kid isn't mine."

Several seconds of incredulous silence followed. At last Severus managed, "How dare you accuse Glenna of cheating!"

"You've got balls, you know that!" Mulciber shouted, stopping barely short of drawing his wand. "I thought it was weird, the kid coming too soon and being so big, but when I got a look at her, I knew. She looks just like you, tiny hook nose and all!"

Rendered speechless from sheer astonishment, Severus merely gaped at him.

Jack went on, oblivious to the shock in the other man's face. "You get Glenna pregnant and refuse to marry her, then you have the gall to show up and want to see her! I should kill you! But you know what? I'm gonna take care of the baby and love her like my own, which you wouldn't do, because I love Glenna."

"I want to talk to her," Severus croaked, then added quietly, "Please."

Jack moved aside as he made a flourish at the door, saying snidely, "Try to keep it in your pants. I want to make sure the next one she pops out is _mine_."

On unsteady legs that felt more like cardboard than flesh, Severus entered the house. Glenna being nowhere in sight, he Apparated up to her room and knocked lightly, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind whirling. Glenna opened the door with a cry of surprise.

"Hi, Glenna," he began softly.

"Severus, what are you doing here?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't worry, Jack knows I'm here." That seemed to put her at ease, for she sighed in relief and waved him in. "I came to congratulate you on the baby." His eyes roamed over her figure, which was still a little puffy from the pregnancy. She seemed tired, worn out, yet in his sight she'd never looked so beautiful.

"Her name is Jacinta," said Glenna, picking up the infant from her crib and carrying her over for Severus' inspection.

He gazed down at the tiny face framed by black hair; while the girl's face was filled out, not sallow or drawn, her button nose did indeed hook slightly at the end, bearing a striking resemblance to his own. He sucked in a dismayed breath. Her eyes, a bright blue, though shaped and set identically to his, studied him as intensely as he studied her. "She's perfect," he whispered.

Glenna smiled and cuddled the girl tenderly. "Yes, she is, and such a sweet baby. She hardly cries at all, she's so alert, so smart." She felt a rush of pride creeping into her cheeks and turned to the window. "The medi-witch says a lot of babies start out with black hair, only it falls out and turns color later."

"Is that what you're hoping?"

"What?" She wheeled around once more to face him.

"You wouldn't want her to look too much like me, would you?"

"Severus, what are you—"

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant before going to Jack?" he asked quietly, evidently pained.

Shocked, Glenna only stared in horrified realization, the baby clasped so tightly to her chest she began to squall in protest. He knew! With a defeated slump she moved over to collapse into a chair, tears welling in her eyes. "Jack told you, didn't he? I was hoping she'd look like me so he'd never suspect, but he confronted me the day after she was born."

Severus approached her and dropped to one knee. "You should've told me. Didn't you think I'd want to raise my own baby?"

"It's not that simple!" Glenna cried, the words flowing out like a river whose dam had finally burst. "You were so preoccupied with all the things going on in your life, and I was running low on your potion. I didn't want to bother you with that, too, so I only used it sporadically. When I found out I was pregnant, I figured you'd think I was trying to trap you. You said you didn't ever want kids, you didn't want to get married. What was I supposed to do? I'd be the laughingstock of the community to get knocked up and be unwed." The tears perched in her eyes began to stream down her face and her body heaved with sobs. "I had to do what was best for me and my baby."

"Our baby," he corrected her softly. Never in his life had he felt like such a perfect heel. Yes, he'd had things going on, but it had never occurred to him that Glenna might feel slighted, might hesitate to ask him for what she needed. And he _had_ told her he didn't ever want children, so when it happened, what was she to think?

"Our baby," she conceded. She jiggled the child gently to calm her mewls while trying to wipe her own eyes.

"Let me hold her." Kneeling beside her, Severus held out his hands, half afraid the woman would deny his request, both pleased and frightened when she deposited the bundle in his arms. Shifting the teeny head to the crook of his arm as he'd learned so many years ago with his siblings, he looked down in wonder at the tiny being he'd helped create. "Jacinta. My baby." These were words he had never in a million years thought would come from his lips. "Why Jack, Glenna?"

"Because he was the perfect solution. He loves me, I care deeply for him, he'd be obligated to marry me if he got me pregnant. Jacinta will be recognized as pureblood, she'll have a good life."

"But she's _mine_. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It should've meant something to _you_!" she shrilled. "_I_ should've meant something to you, but you didn't want me or the baby, you only wanted that mudblood!"

"Don't call her that!"

"See? Even now, with your daughter right here in your arms, you're worried about Evans!" A new bout of weeping overtook Glenna; she leaned forward over her knees, wrapping her arms around her head as she rocked back and forth. "Jack loves me, he wanted to marry me, he's even willing to raise your child. I'm lucky to have him."

A miniature war had begun to rage in Severus' brain. He longed desperately to tell her how he truly felt, but even if he could force the words out, would it make a difference? Would she divorce Jack to come running to a man so skittish about marriage, putting her daughter's future on the line? Probably not, and why should she? Did he have the right to expect her to? Up to now he'd given her no cause for hope. More than likely any declarations of love on his part would serve only to make things worse in that she'd stay with Jack, yet always wonder 'what if'. She'd regret marrying the one man who'd shown her absolute loyalty and devotion, who'd give her the world on a silver platter instead of the pitiful offerings of an impoverished potions assistant who moonlighted as a Death Eater. As much as it broke his heart to think it, she was better off with Jack.

"Glenna, I…I'm so sorry. I didn't want things to turn out like this."

She lifted her tearstained face to look at him. "Don't worry, you won't have to be responsible for Jacinta. No one will know, they all believe she's Jack's."

"That's not what I meant. I'm sorry I hurt you, so very sorry. I'd like to take responsibility for my daughter. I want to be involved in her upbringing."

"I don't think so, Snape," came Jack's voice from the doorway. He strode over quickly and plucked the infant away before Severus could react. "In the eyes of the law, she's mine. I'll raise her that way."

Severus stood up, his body shaking from suppressed emotions, not the least of which was fury. "Do you honestly think I'll stand by and watch you be cruel to her, Mulciber?"

"Cruel?" echoed the other with a disdainful laugh. "Why would I be cruel?"

"I know how you were brought up, I know your father and what he's capable of with his own son. Jacinta isn't yours—"

"Give it a rest, Snape," Jack sneered and rolled his eyes. "Make no mistake, this kid might have your seed, but I'm the one she'll call 'daddy', I'm the one she'll come to when she's afraid or needs something. I would never hurt my child."

"He's telling the truth, Severus," said Glenna, rising and coming to stand beside her husband. "Jack isn't like his father. He's kind and gentle with Jacinta."

"Even so, I have a right to know her," insisted Severus. "You can't tell me she's mine and in the same breath tell me to butt out of her life."

"Severus, it would seem suspicious to others if you were seen with her very often, don't you understand?" pleaded Glenna. "They might see the resemblance and make the connection."

"So I'm supposed to go home and pretend it never happened?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "I can't do that."

Mulciber, cuddling the child in one arm, had drawn his wand with the other. He pointed it directly at Severus. "I think you'd better do that."

"Jack, don't!" Glenna made a grab for the wand but he evaded her and stepped away, keeping it aimed at Severus.

"Leave now," Jack intoned, his face grim.

Because it would be futile to go for his own wand, and because he couldn't very well hex the man when he was holding the baby even if he managed to get his wand out, Severus cast a final glower and Disapparated down to the front door. This wasn't over, not by a long shot!


	44. Chapter 44

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Four

"Master Lucius?" Sisidy inquired warily. The young master was alone with his wife and, she'd learned once from a severe scolding, he didn't appreciate being interrupted when he was with Miss Narcissa. She hopped back and forth from one foot to the other, hoping the young master wouldn't be upset. He'd never struck her as he did Dobby, but a look of displeasure was enough to send her into soulful tears.

"What is it?" Lucius called through the closed door.

"Forgive Sisidy, Master, but your friend is here. Mister Severus is wanting to see Master Lucius." She raised a hand to her mouth to chew nervously on a fingernail.

"Tell him I'll be there straightaway."

"Yes, Master."

The elf popped down into the main living area where Severus was wearing a hole in the expensive carpet with his pacing. He looked up hopefully at the sound of her Apparating, then his shoulders slumped once more.

"Master Lucius is saying he coming straightaway," the elf squeaked. "Does Mister Severus wanting food or drink?"

"No, thank you," he mumbled. Maybe he shouldn't be bothering Lucius with this, yet he didn't know where else to turn. When Lucius Apparated in looking somewhat disheveled, his hair loose and mussed, Severus definitely wished he hadn't come. He could imagine what Lucius had been up to with Narcissa, causing a breach in his perennially impeccable appearance.

"Hi, Severus, how are you?" said Lucius pleasantly as he casually smoothed his hair. He seemed very content; maybe they were finished?

Severus dropped his gaze, stifling a snicker. "Your shirt is buttoned wrong," he mentioned.

"Is it?" Lucius glanced down, flushing slightly as he unbuttoned it to do over. "Wonder how that happened."

His friend let it pass without a snide remark. Best not to antagonize when asking for a favor. "Lucius, I, um…you know Glenna married Mulciber, I told you."

"Yes, I remember," answered the other, who was now peering into the mirror over the fireplace, engaged in full scale inspection of his person, adjusting clothing, tying back his hair.

"Glenna had the baby." Severus' voice caught in his throat. "Lucius, she's mine."

The older man stopped his primping to study his friend's forlorn face. He'd thought the poor lovesick fool had gotten over the worst of it. Sadly he said, "Severus, Glenna isn't yours anymore, she—"

"The baby!" interrupted Severus in a near wail. "The baby is mine!"

Lucius cocked his head, asking guardedly, "Why do you think that?"

"Because Glenna told me! Jack told me!"

Flabbergasted, utterly shocked, Lucius stepped over to a chair and crumbled into it. Severus had a child! It seemed somehow incomprehensible. When he finally managed to move his lips he murmured, "Wow. I did not expect that."

Severus continued pacing across the floor as he ranted on. "Glenna married Mulciber knowing it was my daughter. She thought I didn't want a kid, which I said I didn't, but she could've told me and given me the chance to make it right. Now they don't want me involved, Mulciber's going to be her father and I'm nobody! It's not right!"

Lucius hesitated, expecting the other man to continue, but he'd fixed the blond with a stare that implied he anticipated a response. He coughed lightly. "Let me get this straight. You and Glenna have a child, which she and Jack are raising, and you want…what exactly is it you want, Severus?"

"Jacinta," he replied immediately, then after a pause he added, "And Glenna, but I doubt…she probably wouldn't…"

"I think it's a little late to try for Glenna," advised Lucius. "If you two couldn't sort things out before this, I don't see how you'd manage now when it's far more complicated."

"Maybe so, but I have as much right to my daughter as she does," Snape contended. "I want to raise her."

A myriad of reasons that this seemed a bad idea to Lucius swarmed over him like moths to a flame. Severus was old enough to be a father—obviously—yet if he couldn't even tell Glenna he loved her when they were together, how would he communicate with the child? He had to work, with no wife at home to tend the baby. He was, to be generous, not exactly inclined to like children, on the whole. He was short tempered, stubborn—

"Lucius, are you even listening?"

"Yes," said Lucius, snapping out of his contemplation. "I think you're a little overwrought right now. Perhaps you need to take some time to calm down, think this through."

"What's to think through? The Malfoy name carries a lot of weight with the authorities—"

"Assuming we intended to go to them, which we don't," interrupted Lucius. He was gearing up for an explanation when his friend gawked at him with a pointed look of betrayal.

"You don't want to help me." His voice sounded high and strained. His last resort—his _only_ resort—wanted no part of it. With as much dignity as he could muster while still being absolutely vitriolic, he sneered, "But then, why should you? It's not your kid, what do you care?"

"Now you're just being an ass," said Lucius matter-of-factly.

"What do you know about it? You're not a father," Severus retorted. "You're probably jealous because you don't have a child, so you don't want me to have my daughter, either!" He knew he was being unreasonable, yet he couldn't stop the words from jumping out of his mouth. "I never abused your friendship, and the one time I ask for your assistance you spurn me. Thanks for nothing."

He stepped back into the fireplace and floo'd home, leaving a very confused and indignant Malfoy to stew in his anger. How dare that little jerk treat him this way! He worked his way twice through every swear word he knew, and was then forced to begin combining them in creative ways to vent his fury, which grew the more he dwelt on it. Severus didn't even bother to listen to what he had to say, he'd simply come to get what he wanted, and if he didn't get it, to hell with Lucius! Well, two could play that game! And the nerve of the prick to hammer on the sensitive issue of his lack of children!

"Lucius, what's wrong?" Narcissa came over to where he stood spewing invectives.

"I don't know why I was ever friends with that bastard," he growled, his jaw tight. "Ungrateful, vindictive,…" He went off again maligning the young man in the most unflattering fashion, to Narcissa's dismay.

"Honey, what happened?"

"He insulted me, then threw our friendship in my face and left." As irate as he was, the hurt shown in his gray eyes.

Narcissa reached up to stroke his face, so pale, so beautiful yet unnerving in its fury. She'd already asked twice, it seemed unwise to ask him again to recount the events when he was so agitated. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"I don't care," answered Lucius, taking her hand to lead her out of the room. "He can rot in hell before I ever speak to him again."

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"Severus, what is it?" Eileen came out of the kitchen to find her eldest standing in the fireplace, unmoving, staring at the floor.

He raised his eyes to her, the most mournful eyes she'd ever seen, and huge tears slid down his cheeks. "Mum, I need to talk to you."

Seated side by side on the couch, he narrated the entire story of Glenna, Jack, and Jacinta, keeping his face averted to avoid acknowledging her shock. He went on to detail the fiasco at Malfoy Manor, including his own unfounded, cruel accusations. When he'd finished, he looked up expecting to see condemnation.

Eileen threw her arms around her son, hugging him tight to her chest. "Oh, Severus, you stupid boy." At length she drew back, holding him at arm's length, studying him. "My baby has a baby. Oh, Severus."

"Are you heinously disappointed in me?"

"No, son. I'm disappointed at how things worked out, but I'm thrilled to have a granddaughter."

He shook his head, unsure of what to say. A granddaughter his mother couldn't see didn't count for much, did it? Just as a daughter he could never see was purely heartbreaking.

Eileen shook him gently, her voice more commanding than he was used to. "Son, I know you said some awful, mean things to the Malfoy boy, but he's a good sort. You need to apologize to him. Who knows, maybe he can do something."

"He doesn't want to, mum."

"Did he say that?" she challenged.

Severus flitted quickly through the conversation in his memory. "No, I guess he didn't. I assumed that's what he meant."

"Severus, even if he can't or won't help for some reason, he's been your friend for many years. You need to hear him out, it's the least you can do," she insisted.

A whooshing, rustling in the fireplace drew their attention. A dusty Narcissa stepped forward, brushing at the soot, and she stopped short at seeing them on the couch, eyes riveted on her. She gave a lopsided grin. "Hello there."

Rising from the couch, Severus walked over to her. Why was she here, especially now? Surely Lucius had regaled her heartily about their quarrel. "Hi, Narcissa. You remember my mother."

"Yes, Mrs. Snape, it's good to see you. Severus, I don't have much time, Lucius will wonder where I've gone. He told me you argued…well, he wasn't so gracious about it, but that was the idea. What happened between you?"

"He didn't tell you anything?" asked Snape incredulously.

"No," she said ruefully. "But he taught me some profanities I'd never heard before."

Eileen waved her over to sit with her. "You may as well tell her, son."

When Severus had finished spinning the tale for the second time, he sat back in shame at Narcissa's reaction. She'd looked surprised but almost happy about the baby; when he got to the part of his cutting remarks regarding Lucius, her blue eyes grew wide and filled with tears. He knew damned well how much it pained the couple not to have a baby, and to use it as a weapon was simply unconscionable. Perhaps he ought to have censored himself instead of telling her, he thought, only if he did, Lucius would eventually fill her in on everything he'd said.

"Narcissa, I'm sorry I said those things. It was hurtful and cruel, I know. I didn't mean it."

She gulped back a lump in her throat. "Well, I understand why he's so angry." Then she did something he could not have anticipated. She took his hand in hers, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. "I know you didn't mean it, and when he gets over his fit, he'll realize it, too. I wish you'd come back to the manor."

"At this point in time I think that would be suicidal," he answered dryly.

A lovely smile crept over her features and she laughed softly. "Maybe so. Give it a few days for Lucius to calm down, then come by. And congratulations on Jacinta."

"Thank you," he murmured.

Narcissa pulled him into a hard embrace, which he readily returned, then she got up. "I think I'd rather Apparate home. The floo is so messy."

Severus led her outside to the back garden, from where she could see smokestacks not far off, then she gave another smile and disappeared.

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Three days, three agonizingly long days had passed before Severus deemed it safe to make contact with Lucius. Even if the man hadn't forgiven him, and chance fell heavily in that direction, he needed to make an apology for his beastly conduct. By now Malfoy ought to have simmered down to merely pissed instead of enraged, so he could at least try to explain his actions. No, try to grovel without appearing to do so…it was a tricky path, especially since groveling didn't come naturally.

He floo'd into the Malfoy main living area, mildly surprised that he was still able to do so. Lucius must have overlooked blocking him from entry as everyone else except family was blocked. Almost instantly an elf appeared.

"Yes, Mister Severus?" squeaked Dobby, his huge ears flapping nervously as if he thought the youth might hit him. It peeved Severus, actually, since he'd never touched the wretched elf, which therefore had no cause to fear him.

"I need to see your master," he said, stepping out of the fireplace to brush himself off.

Dobby gawked for a few moments, his mind churning. Master Lucius hated Dobby, and Master Lucius had been in a very, very bad mood these past days. Master Lucius now hated Mister Severus, too, and if Dobby told him Mister Severus was here, Master Lucius would punch Dobby or kick Dobby. But Mister Severus hadn't specified Master Lucius… he said Dobby's master. Dobby's master was truly Master Malfoy. Biting his lip, he disappeared.

Shortly, though what seemed ages to Severus, Abraxas came strolling into the room. "Hello, Severus."

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," he responded, glancing by him. Where was Lucius? Maybe he refused to come.

"So, you're a father," drawled Abraxas, not beating around the bush.

"Yes, sir." Snape vaguely wondered who had told him, Lucius or Narcissa.

"I suppose it never occurred to you to get married before having relations." How could he make a scolding sound like casual conversation?

Shamefaced, Severus replied, "I'm sorry, sir."

"Sit down, son." It wasn't a request. Severus sat in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, Abraxas settled himself in the other. "Now you see some of the problems associated with premarital sex." Was he blushing at the word?

"Mr. Malfoy, I appreciate your concern, but… well, I just want my daughter."

Abraxas nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "This is a complicated situation you've gotten into, Severus. Your daughter is being claimed by another man, I sympathize with you."

"He's doing it to spite me," asserted Severus with a rush of anger.

"Are you sure of that? Can you imagine what this is like for Jack Mulciber? I'm certain when he found out he'd been duped he was hurt, maybe even humiliated. He didn't have to forgive Glenna's deception, he didn't have to accept responsibility for her and the child. He did so to prevent scandal surrounding them. That doesn't sound much like spite. No doubt you resent him, even despise him, but it takes a real man to forgive that kind of duplicity, to take on a family under those circumstances."

"Sir, he doesn't have to. I want my daughter, I don't want him raising her."

"I understand that, Severus, but realistically what options exist? Is Glenna an unfit mother?"

"No," admitted Snape reluctantly.

"And assuming she were unfit and you were given custody, who would take care of the baby while you were at work? Your mother isn't well, you can't expect your siblings to do it." Why did he have to be so blasted logical?

"My grandparents," he said.

Abraxas inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. "I have to admit that is a possibility—if Glenna couldn't care for Jacinta. It all comes down to that."

"You have a lot of connections, Mr. Malfoy. If you asked for a favor, you'd get it," pleaded the young man.

"I do, that's true. Likely I could arrange it. First I want you to think for a minute about how you're feeling right now. Is that what you want to do to Glenna?" Abraxas fixed him with a hard look. "You can't have it both ways."

The idea of Glenna suffering as he suffered was too much for Severus. How could he take her baby from her, devastate her, when despite it all he loved her? She'd carried Jacinta inside her, loved her for nine months when Severus felt nothing for the baby. It would kill her to lose her child.

"Shared custody," Severus croaked, grasping at a compromise. "Why can't we have that?"

The older man sighed heavily in a way that made Snape's stomach leap. "Lucius and I have discussed this at length—yes, he's still irate, but you're his friend nonetheless. He told me Jack's father is a Death Eater, a particularly devoted Death Eater."

"Yes, sir."

"If he finds out his granddaughter isn't really his granddaughter, he's liable to murder her, and maybe Glenna as well. Shared custody is a declaration to the world that Jack isn't Jacinta's father. The child wouldn't be safe." Abraxas studied the emotionless face before him; only the pain in his eyes told of the turmoil raging inside.

After what felt like eons of torture, rolling these thoughts around his skull, Severus felt no better than when he'd come—he felt worse, in fact. If he procured sole custody, he'd destroy Glenna. If he got shared custody, his child and Glenna would be marked for death. If he left things as they were, _he'd_ still be miserable. And, assuming he overcame his reluctance concerning homicide and decided on a preemptive strike against Mulciber, Sr., Lord Voldemort would probably find out somehow and see to it the rest of the Death Eaters tracked down Snape and murdered him. If aurors didn't do it first, or cart him off to Azkaban. It was a lose/lose proposition all the way around.

"What am I supposed to do? She's mine!" he blurted in a half howl. "They won't even let me see her!"

Abraxas cocked his eyebrow in exactly the same manner as his son. "_That_ I may be able to help you with. First I think you and Lucius need to talk, make up, then we'll discuss securing visitation." Without waiting for Snape's reply, he got up and left the room. Severus got up to pace again.

No more than a minute had gone by when Lucius Apparated in. His sullen expression said it all before he even spoke. "My father ordered me to come. What do you want?"

"Just to talk… to apologize," said Snape, feeling very ill at ease.

"Apologize? Would that be for slandering me or merely for being a self-centered, obstinate piece of shit?"

_He's baiting you_, Severus warned himself, gritting his teeth. "That isn't necessary, Malfoy. I'm trying to be gracious."

Lucius blew out a chortled breath. "And a pig can try to be genteel, but it doesn't succeed."

Severus' fragile patience snapped. "Why do you have to be such a jackal? It's no wonder people talk about you behind your back, you unctuous, self-aggrandizing, condescending prig! I'll leave so you can get back to worshipping yourself and your perfect wife!"

He didn't even manage to turn around. Lucius nailed him in the eye with a punch that knocked him to the ground, then leaped on top of him to sit on his chest and whale on the younger man with both fists. Severus squirmed and writhed violently in an attempt to buck him off while doing his best to fend off blows, and hopefully land a few of his own.

All at once, like opposing forces gone postal, the young men flew apart from one another. Severus smacked the wall back-first and sank to the floor; Lucius hit the opposite wall, a considerable distance away, crunching his shoulder quite hard and eliciting a stream of obscenities. He got up rubbing the bruised limb, then halted in place, eyes widening.

Abraxas put his wand back in his pocket, frowning and shaking his head. "That's quite enough of your smut mouth, Lucius. I leave you two alone for five minutes and this is how you behave."

Together Lucius and Severus rejoined, "He started it!"

"You hit me first!" Severus pointed out, his swollen eye testimony to the fact.

Lucius shook back his hair, which had fallen mostly out of its band and draped across his face. "You called me a multitude of names," he retorted, then addressed his father. "And he called Narcissa… perfect." Somehow it sounded worse in his mind. Abraxas raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Well, it was the _way_ he said it."

"You're both grown men, I'd hate to have to bare your arses and spank you like three-year-olds." Abraxas crooked a finger at them. "Come here, both of you."

Out of deeply ingrained habit, Lucius started to obey, albeit with trepidation. He knew that look, that tone, that _finger_. Severus, his eyes the size of ping pong balls, stood glued to the floor. While Abraxas didn't raise the volume of his voice, the tone became deeper, menacing as he it directed at Snape.

"Now."

Severus slinked over, shuffling his feet as if incapable of lifting them off the floor. When both young men stood before him, Abraxas took each one by the head, winding his fingers in their hair, then with a sudden, hard motion he cracked their skulls together with a loud 'thunk'.

"Ow!" they yelped in unison.

"Now, boys, I've had enough of your juvenile attitude. You're going to sit down like adults and work this out, is that understood?"

Severus exclaimed, "He thinks I'm a 'pig trying to be genteel'!"

Lucius ducked his head, snickering. "That was pretty clever." He caught his father's eye—or rather, glare. "Well, it was," he grumbled. "Besides, he said loads of things about me, none of them complimentary, I might add."

Abraxas gave a deliberately exaggerated sigh. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to resort to this threat. "Do I need to cane you both?" He snapped his fingers; a second later the dreaded cane flew into the room and he deftly caught it. Severus and Lucius scrambled for the chairs, throwing themselves in and projecting an air of absolute innocence. "Excellent. Severus, apologize to Lucius for your earlier remarks—and the recent ones, what the hell."

"Lucius, I'm sorry for the reprehensible things I said. I was upset, I wanted to make you feel bad, but I didn't really want to hurt you."

"But you did," Lucius confessed, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," he reiterated.

"When you said I was jealous, maybe I am," Lucius conceded. "You didn't even want a child, yet you got one. Narcissa and I have been trying for almost five years. It's not fair."

"No, it isn't. My remarks were abhorrent and uncalled for. I don't know what else to say except I'm very sorry." He chanced a glance over at his friend.

Lucius shrugged one shoulder. "I don't really think you're a pig." He grinned in spite of himself.

Severus let out a relieved breath and grinned with him. "And I don't really think you're a prig."

Abraxas tapped his cane on the floor. "Don't you both feel better? Was that so difficult? Now let's talk about getting Severus a way to see his baby."


	45. Chapter 45Visitation

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Five

It had been very quiet in the baby's room. Glenna came up to the doorway to check on her and stopped when she saw Jack sitting in the rocking chair holding Jacinta, gazing down at her with undeniable adoration. He bent to kiss the tiny girl, whose fist was wrapped firmly around one of his fingers; an empty bottle sat beside the chair. He noticed a movement and looked up at his wife, evidently suppressing what he wanted to say.

Glenna came in, knelt beside them, and stroked the sleeping baby's cheek. Not looking at Jack she said, "It's almost time to go."

At first he didn't respond and she thought he hadn't heard. Then he replied, "You don't think they can…" He halted to clear his throat. "You don't think they can take her away, do you?" His voice sounded high and shaky.

"I don't know, I don't think so. The Malfoys have a ton of influence, but…" She trailed off. The Malfoys could do whatever they damned well pleased and no one would stop them. What influence didn't cover, well-placed bribes would. They were Severus' friends. Would he—could he be so cruel? Yes, she admitted, he could to Jack. But to her? She hoped and prayed he still cared enough for her not to try such a thing.

"We can take her and run," Jack was saying. "We can leave Britain—"

"No. We'll hear what they have to say," Glenna answered. _Then if they try to take her, we'll run._

"Snape is doing this out of spite," the man spat. "He didn't want a child, he only wants Jacinta in order to hurt us. I never should've told him!"

Glenna didn't answer. If Jack had kept his mouth shut when Severus came over instead of angrily throwing in his face that Severus was the father, they might not be near hysterical now wondering what was going to happen. The Malfoys had 'requested' a meeting with them today to discuss Jacinta; they would go. Everyone knew if you crossed the Malfoys you could expect a shitload of trouble.

It wouldn't do to punish Jack repeatedly for his folly. They'd fought over it once, he'd begged forgiveness, that was the end of it. He loved Jacinta as much as she did, he'd loved the baby from the moment he learned Glenna was pregnant. And he'd turned out to be a better father than she'd anticipated: he fed Jacinta, changed her, played with her. If she were his own blood he couldn't be more attentive, more enamored.

And truth be told, she'd castigated herself innumerable times for not simply telling Severus the truth from the outset. Yes, she'd been afraid and hurt, felt sure he'd want no part of this. She'd been wrong, there was no going back. In spite of everything, he'd still never said he loved her, only that he wanted the baby. That was no way to build a marriage, was it? With Jack, they could build a loving home, not one filled with recriminations and anger.

"My mother's coming up to watch her, Jack. We need to go." She kissed the baby, then took her from the man.

Jack put a hand on her shoulder, staring into her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said for the hundredth time.

Glenna regarded him carefully, her eyes drifting over his mussed, short brown hair, his unshaven face, his exhausted blue eyes of exactly the same shade as Jacinta's. How ironic. "I know," she whispered.

An older woman came in smiling, blissfully unaware of the torture her daughter and son-in-law endured or where they were going. "You have a nice time, I'll take good care of her."

"We hope not to be gone too long, mum," said Glenna, faking a smile of her own. She took hold of Mulciber's arm and they walked out.

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Gathered together around the Malfoys' dining room table were Severus, Abraxas, Lucius, Glenna, and Jack; no one seemed too keen on beginning the conversation. They'd exchanged the required platitudes upon meeting, then settled in looking fearful and/or uncomfortable.

At last Abraxas took the lead. "I'm sure you know why you've been asked here."

"Asked?" repeated Jack. "You mean ordered."

"Six of one, half a dozen of another," said Abraxas smoothly. "Severus has requested our help concerning his daughter, whom apparently you've forbidden him to see."

"He's a Death Eater, a bad influence—" Jack began, but stopped when Glenna squeezed his wrist, digging in her fingers and casting him a furious glare.

Here Lucius spoke up, smirking slightly. "You thought we didn't know he was a Death Eater? We do, yet I'd hardly call him a bad influence." He'd talked to Severus already about this, about the hold the dark lord would have on him if he found out about Jacinta. He was frankly surprised that Jack didn't seem to realize that _Lucius_ was also a Death Eater; perhaps the elder Mulciber didn't speak of it to him, considering he thought his son to be an idiot.

Glenna directed her stare at Severus, who made a point of looking down to avoid it. "What is it you want, Severus? Do you want to rip my heart out of my chest, because that's what you'll do if you take my daughter from me."

Still studying the table, he shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you," he answered quietly. "Lucius, Mr. Malfoy, and I have talked this through and come to what we believe is an equitable compromise. I want to be allowed visitation on a regular basis, and I'd like a voice in how Jacinta is raised. I don't think that's asking too much." He lifted his eyes.

The silence was deafening. On the part of Severus and the Malfoys, it was an expectant silence; for the couple it was sheer incredulity. That was it? He wasn't trying to steal their little girl?

Blinking back disbelief, Glenna said, "So you're not trying to get custody?"

"No."

"And all we have to do is grant visitation?" Jack added.

"Don't forget I demand a say in her upbringing," Severus responded, careful not to snap at him. If things got messy, well… he didn't want to take that route. This was hard enough as it was, he didn't care to make it painful as well.

Glenna and Jack looked at each other, their fear dissipating, and smiled. Severus averted his gaze. He still couldn't bear to see her with another man.

"Severus?" asked Glenna. "I hate to bring this up, but Jacinta does favor you. Even though she has blue eyes and her hair appears to be lightening up, if you're around a lot my family is bound to notice. If…"

Jack finished for her. "If my father suspected, I'm afraid of what he might do. Pureblood family honor and all that. I'll defend Jacinta, I'll fight for her, but if he killed me there'd be no one to—"

"There'd be me," Glenna interrupted.

"My father is a good dueler, Glenna. He'd murder you, too."

"That's enough," said Abraxas, disgusted at the thought of a man killing a baby, let alone his own son. "We discussed this as well. It is _imperative_ that Jack's family remain ignorant of the truth. We all agree on that. Glenna, you must tell your parents and warn them of the consequences of even a casual slip of the tongue. It could prove disastrous."

"Why should I tell them then?"

"Because I will be coming to see Jacinta," Severus responded. "Eventually you'd have to explain why I'm there so often. And while we're on it, I'd like the freedom to take Jacinta on outings and to my home. My family deserves to know her."

"But if you're in public, people will see you with her," Glenna started.

"In the event that anyone might see us together, I'll charm myself a disguise, does that suit you?" he sighed wearily.

Glenna and Jack both nodded, then Jack's eyes lit up with alarm. "And you can't tell her you're her father! She's a child, she'd blab."

More awkward silence. "Fine, I won't tell her. I demand to see her at least twice a week, more if possible, for a minimum of four hours at a stretch. When she gets a little older, I expect overnight visits…"

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Cygnus Black loved his family. While at times he felt disappointed that he'd never had a son to be his heir, despite that he loved his wife and three daughters—no, two daughters. Andromeda was no longer a Black. He blamed himself. If he'd brought her up more strictly, perhaps she'd have made him proud like Bella and Cissy, but that was water under the bridge. If only he could forget as easily as Orion was able to forget that blood traitor son of his.

Cygnus grimaced. Orion couldn't fool him any more than he was able to fool his brother. They'd each lost a child, they both suffered in silence, the silence of pureblood honor. Why did it seem so easy for everyone else?

"Black." The man in the magically guided open carriage with him snapped his fingers in front of Cygnus' face. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry, Clifford. I tend to lapse into thought on these long rides. At times I wish my estate weren't quite so large." He smiled genially.

"That's why I'm here, my friend. If the back plot is agreeable, I'll take it off your hands, you'll never miss it, and the nice chunk of change will come in handy for buying your wife a nice gift, huh?" answered the other.

"I wish we could view it in the daylight. Full moon or not, you can't get the proper effect at night."

Clifford shrugged. "I have to leave tonight for home. As long as it has the foliage I'm looking for, its appearance is really irrelevant. I'll only be harvesting the wood anyway."

"True," agreed Cygnus, settling back against the seat. The sweet smell of pine and moss wafted upward toward him. They were nearly there.

There was no sound to warn them. From seemingly nowhere, they were assailed by a pack of large, gruesome, hairy creatures leaping at the carriage, tearing at their clothing and skin. The men uttered strangled cries for help as they whipped out their wands to blast the beasts.

Cygnus fired a _stupefy_ that sent one tumbling over the edge; Clifford stunned another, yet the animals continued their assault. Over and over they fired at the incredibly fast beings, which fell only to return moments later, for all intents and purposes unharmed. When an _avada kedavra_ hit one straight in the chest and it resumed its pursuit, the men's frightened cries became screams of panic.

"Turn the carriage around!" Clifford screeched, kicking off a beast that had jumped on him. It grunted and howled, chilling him to the bone.

A quick wave of Cygnus' wand sent the carriage back in the direction from which it had come, but the animals were relentless. Three of them bounded at once onto the vehicle, one of whom grabbed Cygnus' wand hand and bit deeply into his arm, viciously mauling the flesh. His unearthly cries pierced the air. Clifford blasted one of them, but two more crashed down on top of him, jerking his head back to expose his neck. Flecks of blood sprayed across the carriage.

Half an hour later the carriage came to a halt in front of Black Manor. The house elf who came trotting out to greet her master took one look at the ravaged bodies of Cygnus and Clifford and began to scream at the top of her lungs.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Narcissa licked and sucked at the earlobe of her husband, watching his reaction in exhilaration. She nibbled it a little more, listening to his soft moans of pure rapture. "Do you want me to stop?" she teased.

"Never," he whispered huskily. Suddenly he took her by the shoulders to pin her to the bed, straddling her waist as he playfully snogged her.

"Lucius." Abraxas rapped harder at the door. "Lucius! I need to speak with you."

His son rolled off Narcissa with an aggravated groan. "Just a minute!"

"Do you have to go, honey?" she asked, grasping his arm.

"I'll be right back." He jerked on his pajama bottoms and went to the door. "Yes, Father?" He wisely declined to add _And this had better be important_.

A very solemn Abraxas pulled him out of the room and shut the door. "I got an owl from Druella Black. There's terrible news, Lucius. Cygnus has been murdered."

Lucius' pale face went a shade whiter. "What? Who would kill Cygnus? He's one of the best-liked men I know!"

"Werewolves."

The younger man's complexion turned positively pallid. "Werewolves?" he whispered, moving away from the door in the event Narcissa might hear. "How?"

"Just as we did recently, the Blacks had put up anti-Apparation wards on the property to guard against quick attack by Death Eaters or aurors. He was in a carriage with a business associate when they were evidently attacked by a pack of werewolves. They couldn't Apparate away…" Abraxas clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He and Cygnus had been good friends. "I've already reversed the spells on our estate."

Lucius stood motionless, staring into nothingness. He'd liked Cygnus, he was a good man, Narcissa's father. Oh, God, he'd have to be the one to tell her! He rubbed a hand over his face. "I guess I should tell Narcissa," he mumbled, starting to turn.

Abraxas grasped his arm. "She'll want to go to her mother. We'll take her via floo, I'll get Druella to reverse the property charms. You'll need to fetch Bella, no one else knows how to reach her. By the time you bring her, you'll be able to Apparate onto the porch."

Lucius nodded numbly, then went back into the room where Narcissa was waiting for him. She smiled seductively, sitting up and motioning him over. Stiffly he crossed the floor to perch on the bed next to her. When she tossed her arms around his neck and started to kiss his chest, he gently pushed her off.

"Honey, what's wrong? I thought you liked that."

"I do, sweetheart," he said, wishing he could avoid hurting her and knowing he couldn't. He took her hands in his, mildly surprised as always at how small and delicate they were. He kissed them, one then the other.

"Lucius, what did your father want."

He looked up at her, his gray eyes projecting a terrible sadness. "It's your father, Narcissa. He's dead."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, Lucius!"

"I'm so sorry." His arms engulfed her and she broke into howls of grief and anguish, sobbing against him as he did the only thing he could do: he held her. When the initial bout of sorrow passed, she'd want to know what happened, and his heart ached at the thought of informing her. Everyone had heard about the state of victims after they'd been attacked by _one_ werewolf, let alone a group of them, the grisly sight of mangled bodies… His arms closed around her just a bit tighter.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

They were battling. At least all evidence pointed to such, for Bellatrix stood outside the castle throwing curses at Rodolphus and Rabastan. At first Lucius thought all three were fighting each other, but apparently the brothers were joining forces against the woman. Lord Voldemort sat on a crumbling outer wall, leaning back and watching the duel with casual interest as if he'd seen it plenty of times before. The presence of Lucius appeared to be unnoticed.

Bella blocked two hexes shot at her in quick succession, returning fire. Without so much as turning her head she called out, "Hey, blondie! What're you doing here?" She cast a charm that spun Rabastan in a full circle before he tipped over.

Aware now that everyone saw him, Lucius hightailed it over to the dark lord, dropped to his knees, and kissed the hem of his garment. "My lord, forgive my intrusion, I must speak with Bellatrix."

"Bellatrix," called Voldemort. "Finish your game, then come here."

Flashing a huge smile at his encouragement, she shot several spells at her husband. He blocked the first two, then collapsed on the third. The fourth and fifth whirred over his head as he lay face down in the dirt. Bella gave a little squeal, jumped up and down, her short skirt bobbing dangerously up over her thighs, then scurried over to cast herself at her master's feet, gazing upward dreamily.

"My lord?"

Voldemort turned his attention to Lucius. "I can assume you have nothing to hide from me."

"Of course not, my lord." He got up and looked at his sister-in-law. For once he didn't feel like making fun of her dubious taste in clothing. "Bella, I'm extremely sorry to have to tell you that your father… he's been murdered."

In the blink of an eye Bellatrix had leaped to her feet, traversed the space between them, and rammed her wand into his cheek. "Don't piss with me, Malfoy," she growled.

Very smoothly he turned the wand aside with a push of his fingers. Why in the world he'd expected her to fall apart like Narcissa eluded him. She was as much like Narcissa as Rodolphus was! She stood there glaring at him, waiting for his response, her dark eyes flashing menacingly.

"I'm not joking, Bella. I wish I were."

For the very first time he saw a chink in her armor, a twinge or flicker in her façade, then her face hardened once more, her voice determined. "Who did it? I'll butcher him."

"He was set upon by a band of werewolves."

"Werewolves?" echoed Rodolphus and Rabastan together, both of whom had finally gotten up and made their way over.

Even Voldemort lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Are you quite sure, Lucius?"

"Yes, my lord. My father and I examined the bodies." He swallowed a lump of bile rising in his throat. "The, ah, injuries are consistent with their type of attack."

"Bodies?" said Bellatrix softly. "Who else?"

For a fleeting moment Lucius thought Bella looked _afraid_. He'd never seen that look on her before. It made her seem almost…human. "A business associate. They'd gone in a carriage to view a plot of land at the back of the property." As he studied her face, he noted the tension drain away.

"I want revenge," she said, strangely calm. "My lord, I'd like to return with Lucius to eliminate the vermin."

"I'll go with you," piped up Rodolphus.

"Me, too," added his brother.

Trying to be a voice of reason, Lucius said, "Tonight has been very hard on the family. Perhaps we should wait, plan a strategy."

"We can't wait!" Bella shrilled. "By morning they'll go human and we won't know who they are!"

He'd forgotten about that. "You're right, sorry. Let's go, then."

Voldemort's red eyes glowed just a bit in the moonlight. He held up a hand and all conversation ceased, all faces aimed his way. "So you plan to seek out these werewolves, do you? And how do you plan to kill them?"

"The same as any other filthy animal, master," answered Bellatrix matter-of-factly. "The killing curse." The others nodded along with her.

"You have things yet to learn, Bellatrix. A man in werewolf form is no longer a man, he's an enchanted creature. The killing curse cannot harm him." The dark lord crossed his arms over his chest, projecting a smugness born of superiority.

"Please, master, tell us how to do away with them!" she pleaded, throwing herself on her knees at his feet. "Allow me my vengeance!"

"Only silver to the heart can kill them, you've all heard the tales, no doubt," said Voldemort, glancing at the faces around him, at the assent that this was so. "There is one other way." He removed his wand from his robe, pointed it at a rock some distance away, and uttered, "_Cullen werwulf vithr serebro."_ A stream of silver colored light blasted from the tip of his wand and struck the rock, smashing it to pieces.

The rest observed silently. Clearly the rock was not a werewolf, so 'killing' it with this spell may or may not compare to the real thing. They shifted around uncomfortably, no one willing to ask the obvious question, though they had to admit the silver jet was pretty awesome.

"You must strike the heart," the dark lord admonished them, growing aware of their doubts. "Any other place will not be fatal." His cruel mouth twisted upward. "You dare doubt me?"

"No, my lord!" they all practically shouted.

"Is there perhaps another spell?" asked Lucius, looking down and bracing for the _crucio_.

"There is." A murmur ran through the four minions. "Truly, it lacks the finesse of the silver spell, but it's effective enough to stun the beasts long enough to drive a silver knife into the heart—or to shoot the silver spell to the heart." He'd invented the werewolf killing curse himself and tested it out more than once; it was near and dear to his own cold heart.

After a long pause Bella ventured, "What is this other curse, master?"

"_Platare_," he said simply. "But unless you plan on hand to hand combat, I suggest you learn the other as well. Repeat after me: _cullen werwulf vithr serebro_…"


	46. Chapter 46

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Six

(Author's note: I must give credit where credit is due. The whole idea of using werewolves to kill Cygnus came from my sweetie son, who also helped choreograph the following fight.)

It had seemed like a better idea when they were at the castle discussing hunting werewolves for revenge. Now that they'd arrived at Black Manor, Lucius was having second thoughts. It was obscenely dark, the stiff wind made it difficult to hear anything except the wind whistling through the trees, and _dammit_, they were searching for werewolves! Normal, intelligent people _avoided_ werewolves like the plague. In fact, Bellatrix seemed to be the only one who _wasn't_ having second thoughts. Then again, few would accuse Bella of being normal. She hadn't even gone in to see the family yet, they'd Apparated far enough away that anyone watching for them wouldn't see. So, here they were, trotting blithely around through the woods, wands at ready, hoping to kill the beasts before being mauled into cat food themselves.

The forest blocked most of the light of the moon, effectively obstructing their vision, impeding their ability to detect the lanky creatures stalking them on each side, matching their steps. The largest of them, a ferocious character with gray fur, led the pack of six. Known to his followers as Greyback, he raced ahead, sure-footedly dodging fallen branches as he maneuvered into position; he barked a guttural yip that the others appeared to understand. They closed in, surrounding the group of wizards.

As one, the werewolves attacked, teeth bared, eyes glowing. A shield charm thrown up by Bellatrix repelled them momentarily, long enough for the rest to comprehend that they had been ambushed by their prey. Back to back in a loose circle, the wizards and witch began hurling curses.

Werewolf 6 fell under Lucius' _stupefy_, an automatic response in a duel, before he remembered that a stun here meant very little. The creature leapt up so quickly he hardly saw it before it had him by the throat, flinging him high over its shoulder. He struck a tree limb spine-first, crying out as he felt the bones crunch, and dropped to the ground.

Bella cast a _platare_ at Greyback that missed and hit number 2, who collapsed. Greyback ducked with amazing fleetness to charge at her repeatedly, kept at bay only by her own startling speed of throwing hexes. The two seemed engaged in an odd, deadly dance.

Number 5 took the opportunity to assail Rabastan, who clipped it with the spell Voldemort had taught them. The resulting wound apparently injured it greatly, yet it managed to lunge forward regardless, landing on top of him. A sharp 'snap' rang through the air.

Distracted and disturbed by the frightening alacrity of the beasts, Rodolphus fired wildly at everything in sight, hitting werewolf 3 with a killing curse, then cursing himself for forgetting it wouldn't work. Werewolves 3 and 4 pounced on him and began to drag him off.

Lucius staggered to his knees as number 6 came at him, fangs ready to bite. He screamed the silver spell; the jet slammed the creature in the chest and it crumpled to the earth, unmoving. Panting in pain and suppressed fear, he crawled toward Rodolphus, who was thrashing violently and kicking at number 4, who had him by the leg. Number 3 bent over his throat.

A _platare_ finally landed Greyback, who fell a short distance away. An eerie shriek from Rabastan made Bella spin to see number 5 straddling his chest, going for the kill. Her werewolf killing curse wounded the already injured animal, knocking it off of Rabastan.

Shooting spells as fast as he could, Lucius stunned number 3. It let go of Rodolphus and fell to the side, leaving the latter a clean shot at number 4, which died the instant the silver spell came crashing into its heart. Number 3, sensing personal danger, uttered a horrific growl and dashed off into the woods.

"It broke my wand!" Rabastan wailed, rising and backing from stunned creature number 5, feeling utterly helpless.

Bellatrix cast another silver spell, this one hitting the intended target, and number 5 flew backward, struck the ground, and moved no more. She whirled to find Greyback approaching with number 2. Even for one as skilled in dueling as she, fighting two incredibly swift werewolves was a test of wills as well as skill. Her curses flew so fast one might debate whether there'd been a break between them, yet few connected due to the agility of the hideous foes.

With Rabastan come to the aid of his brother, Lucius looked over at Bellatrix. He tried to get up and could not. "Rabastan, take his wand and go help Bella!"

Rabastan did as he was ordered, racing back to hurl curses at Greyback and number 2, the only remaining werewolves. One silver spell grazed Greyback across the cheek and he howled in rage as he fell again, though the hit had been too slight to cause a stun. He turned and bounded into the woods, leaving number 2 to Bella's wrath. A well aimed hex knocked it to the ground; she strode over, aimed for the heart, and hissed the werewolf killing curse.

Aside from muffled moans from Rodolphus and Lucius, the only other sound was the wind in the trees. Bella and Rabastan joined them, took hold, and Apparated back to Black Manor, where they utilized levitation to haul the two into the house. They were met at the door by Narcissa, Abraxas, and Druella, all of whom stared at them in dismay.

"Lucius?" Narcissa knelt beside him, clutching him around the back to support him. He let out a sharp, involuntary cry.

Abraxas got down beside the wounded men, noting Rodolphus' bleeding throat and legs, as well as his son's discomfort. "You went hunting werewolves, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir," Lucius croaked. "I think one broke my back."

"Lie down—Narcissa, help him." Abraxas turned to Rodolphus, afraid to ask. "Did they… they didn't bite you, did they?" Everyone understood what an answer of 'yes' meant: a swift death at the hand of one of those present.

"No," Rodolphus groaned. "I don't think so. They clawed me up."

Druella had already performed a spell to stop the bleeding. She gaped at the extent of damage around one ankle, so severe it almost seemed his foot would fall right off. Bellatrix _scourgified_ the areas to examine for herself whether the animals had indeed bitten him or not. She unceremoniously ripped off his pantlegs to the knee, carefully studying his legs, then moved on to his neck.

Satisfied that she wouldn't have to kill her husband, she pronounced, "He's only gored, no bite marks."

Abraxas nodded. That was definitely good news. "Lucius, what happened to you?"

"It threw me, I hit a tree," he said, biting his lip against the throbbing pain.

His father manipulated his back with his fingers, eliciting sharp gasps, then he waved his wand over the area while muttering incantations. Finally he said, "If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I'll break your back myself! You only have a couple of chipped vertebrae. When we get home I'll use some potions to fix it up, for now this will do."

"Thank you, Father." He closed his eyes and lay back, feeling Narcissa's hands on his chest and forehead, the agony reduced to a mere tingle. "We killed four of them, honey. They won't be murdering anybody else."

"Good," she said quietly, as if in a dream. How close had they come to murdering her husband? Her sister? "I'm just glad you're alright."

By now Abraxas had turned his attention to Rodolphus, aghast that no one had seen fit to mention he was poised to lose a foot. He healed the deep gashes in the neck and near the throat, then sighed as he pondered what do to. This was going to be another long night.

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"I gotta go now, Reg. I'll see you." Evan Rosier got up from the outside café table he'd been sharing with Regulus in Vertik Alley.

"Tell the family I said hello," responded Regulus, tipping up his glass to empty it; as he looked past the newest Death Eater, the drink soured in his throat and he came up choking and spitting.

"You okay?" laughed the other.

Regulus nodded and waved him off. The other young man gave a curt wave and Disapparated, leaving Black with a clear view of a table two restaurants over, where his brother sat like a king, feet propped on a chair beside him, chatting with James Potter.

For the life of him he couldn't explain how he felt at that moment. He'd not seen Sirius since the attack on the Potter home last Halloween. It was drawing near to the end of June, making it eight months ago, and it hadn't exactly been an auspicious meeting for either of them. Before that had been another five months, although at that time they'd parted on acceptable terms. While loath to admit it, he missed his brother.

Without allowing his brain to direct his steps, he got up and wandered down to the crowded restaurant. Only a fanatical Death Eater like Bellatrix might dare attack the hated Potter under such conditions, and truth be told Regulus had no interest in doing so. Only if the master ordered it would he attack _anyone_ to kill, and only out of self preservation.

Sirius saw him approach and nudged his friend, whispered something, and laughed. Now Regulus remembered why he rarely made an attempt to initiate peace. He glanced around for anyone he recognized who might see him talking to the blood traitor.

The older brother fixed the younger with a condescending glare. "Oh, high and mighty Black heir, you deign to come to me?" He broke down and laughed at his grim humor.

"Stuff it, Sirius." The penetrating look he shot Sirius was understood in an instant, to be answered with a casual shake of the head. Potter didn't know, Sirius hadn't told him that Regulus was one of the assailants that night!

"Potter, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought Death Eaters killed you," said Regulus dryly.

"No such luck, although I did have to sell my house and move to avoid the maniacs, but thanks for inquiring." James flashed a fake smile.

Regulus addressed his brother. "I saw you here and thought I'd try once more to convince you to drop this bad influence and come back to the family." He jerked his head at James at the words 'bad influence'.

"Sorry to disappoint you again, chum," James answered. "Sirius is my best man at my wedding next month."

"Ah, yes, the mudblood," drawled Regulus. "Wouldn't want to ruin such a sacred union." He rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Reg, knock it off!" commanded Sirius.

"And _you_ couldn't even be bothered to go to Uncle Cygnus' funeral!" Regulus snapped at him. "You used to like him!"

Toning down his own typical sarcasm, Sirius said quietly, "I was hardly welcome, now was I? And I found it much harder to like him when he started referring to me as 'the blood traitor bastard'."

"He still cared about you, just like he cared about Andromeda," Regulus replied, dropping his own attitude.

"Like mum and dad care?" asked Sirius, raising his eyebrows defiantly.

"They do."

It was Sirius' turn to snort. "That last beating that drove me out of the house didn't seem very loving, little brother."

"You hurt them! You disgraced the family! What were they supposed to do?"

"Regulus, quit. I don't want to talk about it. Go do your pureblood supremacy crap and leave me out of it." He gestured to James and they rose at the same time and filed past Regulus, only to Disapparate a few paces away.

Regulus kicked the chair Sirius' feet had been propped on, then stalked off himself. He needed to walk, to think… to forget.

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"I wanna play with her," said Julius, jostling against Tina.

"No, I want to!" Justina answered, shoving her twin away from the expensive, ornately carved crib in the corner of the living room, one of the gifts from the Malfoy family. Julius tumbled backward, tripped, and sprawled on his rear while she reached down to pick up the baby, who cooed and smiled a toothless grin at her.

Julius glowered, not daring to tussle with her while she held Jacinta. "She likes me better," he sulked.

Justina cradled the infant to her chest, turned around, and stuck her tongue out at her brother, then slowly made her way to the couch where their mother sat watching with an eagle eye, wand at ready just in case. With relief she took Jacinta from her daughter.

"You can both play with her, but no shouting. And stop your fighting or I won't let either of you near her again," stated Eileen. The baby half sat on her lap, propped up against her belly; she took the miniature hands to clap them together as the twins took turns trying to gain the child's attention by waving and rattling toys or making faces that sent the girl into bubbly giggles.

A short time later the door opened and Severus came in carrying a shopping bag with formula for his daughter. "Oh, she's awake." Although perhaps it shouldn't have, it surprised him how much the baby slept. Looking back, he'd swear the twins had almost _never_ slept, and had cried endlessly. Jacinta was definitely a good baby. "Hello, little girl."

When Jacinta heard his familiar voice, her ears perked up and her head swiveled about looking for the man, ignoring the twins. Catching sight of him, she wiggled impatiently, thrashing her tiny limbs. Severus came over and she thrust her arms out to him, grunting a demand to be held. Suppressing a smug smile, he obliged her. It felt incredibly wonderful to be so wanted, to know the infant desired his comfort. He lifted her up to eye level.

"Were you a good girl for grandma?" he asked in a deep, soothing tone.

Jacinta responded by bracing her hands on his face, leaning in, and biting his nose. He yelped and pulled her away, cradling her in one arm and rubbing his offended appendage. Who knew a toothless bite could smart so much? His brother and sister collapsed into hysterical laughter.

"It's not funny, dunderheads," he growled, unable to be truly angry. It _was_ funny, even if he wouldn't admit it. The child was only eight weeks old and already asserting her dominance over him! Or, just possibly, she found his protruding proboscis to be an enjoyable plaything.

"Is so!" Julius grinned.

Severus motioned toward the formula he'd set on the table. "Tina, go fix a bottle, she'll be hungry soon." He carried the baby over to sit next to his mother.

"You look tired, son. Are you alright?"

Nodding, he tried to pry a fistful of his hair out of Jacinta's hand. "I've just been thinking. I've only been to see the Malfoys once since Mr. Black was murdered. It's been a month. After all they've done for me and given us—the crib, clothes, everything—they probably think I'm an ungrateful bastard."

"Severus, don't talk that way around your daughter," admonished Eileen. "And I doubt they think that."

He grimaced, his eyes popping, as the little girl snatched another handful of hair and yanked for all she was worth, giggling at the sport. "Mum, you want to hold her?" he asked, simultaneously depositing the child on Eileen's lap, several long strands of black hair clutched in her fist.

"What a sweet baby you are," cooed Eileen as she deftly plucked the hairs back out of the infant's mouth where they'd somehow ended up.

"I'd like to take Jacinta to meet them," Severus started. "Only I'm afraid Narcissa…and Lucius, too…might feel bad, might take it that I'm flaunting my child in their faces."

"I don't believe they would think any such thing, Severus. As you pointed out, look at all they've given you. That's not something you do for someone you resent."

"Maybe," he agreed softly. "I don't understand why the potion I gave Narcissa hasn't worked yet, unless the damage to her organs was even worse than I thought," he sighed. "I want so much for them to be happy."

Eileen patted his leg while bouncing the baby on her lap. "You told me you were sure the potion would work. I trust you, so do they."

"What if I was wrong?"

"Severus, I've never known anyone to be as careful and precise in brewing or in research as you are. Stop second guessing yourself."

"So you think I should take Jacinta to see them?"

"Why don't you send an owl and ask?"

"I can't take her today, I'm due back at Glenna's…" It was a pitiful excuse, he knew. They weren't due back for over two hours, plenty of time for a short visit. He cringed at the way his mother rolled her eyes. "But I'll send an owl later to see if they'd like to meet her next time."

It wasn't the visiting he dreaded, but the refusal. What if they didn't want to see the baby, what if it was too painful for them to expose themselves, especially after Narcissa's recent loss of her father? He was so proud of his beautiful, intelligent progeny, he wanted the world to know her and recognize her. But they wouldn't, he thought bitterly. _Mulciber_ was her daddy; Severus was… He paused; he didn't even know what to call himself. No one outside a select few recognized him as her father. What or who was he, then? When she got old enough to speak, what would she call him?

"Son, what is it?"

"Mum, what is Jacinta to call me? According to the terms we worked out, I can't tell her I'm her father. It seems odd to call me 'Severus', and dangerous besides if we're in public and I'm in disguise."

"Hmm." His mother pursed her lips in thought. Jacinta, observing her, puckered up her own lips. "Your siblings are Uncle Julius and Aunt Tina. How about Uncle Zeb?"

"Zeb?" he repeated in horror at the nickname for his hated middle name of Zebedee.

"I realize you don't like it, but listen. She hears you called 'Severus' all the time. You just said that can be hazardous. 'Sev' and 'Zeb' aren't that different in pronunciation, so if she messes up, it might not be noticed."

Severus blew out a disgusted breath. She was right; that didn't mean he had to like it. "I guess it'll do." _For now_.

"Can I feed her, Severus?" asked Tina, walking in with the bottle. Upon spying her food source, Jacinta lurched at the bottle with a demanding cry, nearly falling off Eileen's lap in her pursuit.

"Go ahead," he said, watching the baby attack the formula. He smirked. When she wanted something, she went after it. She had inherited not only her mother's lips and chin, but her temperament as well.

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Severus came through the floo network to Glenna's house as he did every time he took the baby, his cloak draped around her and up over her head to shield her from the dust. It kept the squalling to a minimum and prevented her clothing from becoming soiled, though he didn't need to worry about ashes in her hair, for all of her birth hair had already fallen out. What had begun to grow in its place was a fine, light brown fuzz.

He'd expected Glenna to be waiting, she always was, but he hadn't expected Jack to come bounding in. They had an unspoken agreement that when Severus was with Jacinta, it was his 'father time', it wasn't to be intruded upon by 'daddy'. Yet here he came! Severus' brows dipped, his lip curled in preparation for a nasty insult.

"My dad's coming!" he hissed at Severus, then whirled around and lounged against the door frame as if to block entrance to the room.

Although Jack was in no wise scrawny, Mulciber, Sr. shoved him aside with a swipe of his meaty hand. "Get out of my way, boy. Where's my granddaughter?" He headed over to the fireplace where Glenna was holding the child.

Jack righted himself and spun, panicked at the thought of his father seeing Severus, questioning why he'd be here. One glimpse of the young man made him do a doubletake, then his heart began to calm and he smiled. 'Severus' now sported short dirty blond hair, hazel eyes, and a rather small nose! He was virtually unrecognizable.

"So this is your cousin, Glenna?" asked Mulciber, hoisting the baby into his arms.

"Yes, Mr. Mulciber. His name is—"

"Zeb," Severus finished for her, extending a hand. May as well toss the name out now instead of gaining another detestable name. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mulciber." He tried not to sound too much like himself, for his voice couldn't be altered as easily as appearance.

The man stared hard at Severus, to the point of making him uncomfortable, then gave a snort. "Looks like Jacinta got all her looks from Glenna's side of the family." He smacked Jack a light backhand to the chest. "The only thing she got from you was eye color. Let's hope she didn't get her brains from you." He walked off chortling to himself.

Gritting his teeth to keep from declaring how much he hated the man, Jack followed them to the door, then stopped and turned back. "Nice job, Zeb," he said, cracking a grin.

In a voice unmistakably Snape's, Severus drawled, "I'm glad I could amuse you." After Jack left, Severus crossed his arms and glared expectantly at Glenna. "I'm your cousin?"

"He wanted to know where Jacinta was," Glenna explained sheepishly. "I said my cousin had come from up north to live in the area and you'd—he'd—taken her for a walk. At least I didn't say you were a _she_!"

Conceding her point, Severus shrugged. "And at least you didn't give me yet another god-awful name. My mother and I were discussing how Jacinta will address me, and she thought of 'Uncle Zeb'. While I'd prefer 'dad', I suppose it's the best I can hope for."

"From your middle name," Glenna mused knowingly. "Uncle Zeb it is. I'm sorry it can't be…what you want. I really should go." She jerked a thumb in the direction of her family. "Bye, Sev—Zeb."

"I'll see you in a few days," he answered. He watched the gentle sway of her hips as she walked out, then stepped into the fireplace for home.


	47. Chapter 47

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Seven

"Now, Jacinta, behave yourself. No crying, no puking on people, try not to rip anyone's hair out," Severus advised, standing the girl on his lap to look deeply into her blue eyes as he listed all the things that might potentially alienate the Malfoys, as if he believed his admonitions would have any effect whatsoever.

His daughter met his gaze with a wide-eyed innocence; she tilted her head slightly, ostensibly listening and heeding his cautions. Then she reached over and jerked a shock of his hair so hard he howled. She shrieked with delight and her body shook with laughter.

"I said DON'T pull hair," he growled, shaking his head free of her.

This was all he needed. Narcissa was a woman, everyone knew women automatically understood how to cope with babies. It was innate or something. She'd probably have her tresses pulled back under a kerchief and wear a barf-proof apron. It was Lucius he was worried about. Those long, silky locks might prove too tempting for the beast-child, and what self-respecting baby could resist marring a perfect appearance? Severus, of course, didn't fit into the immaculate category, he didn't care about baby messes. Lucius…he dreaded to think of his friend's reaction. Then again, if all went as it should, eventually Lucius would have his own child; he may as well get used to it now, right?

He lifted the infant to his chest and got up, planted a kiss on the top of her head, draped his cloak over the child, and stepped into the fireplace. "Malfoy Manor."

Severus was stunned to find the couple sitting in the armchairs near the fireplace, evidently awaiting his arrival. They got up immediately, smiling excitedly. The moment he tossed back his robe to reveal Jacinta, Narcissa—who surprisingly was _not_ wearing a baby-proof suit—let out a little squeal.

"Oooh, how cute! Can I hold her?"

He hadn't realized how tense, how nervous he'd been. All the fear of his friends not liking his baby vanished. "Sure." With that he handed Jacinta over to her. The tiny girl stroked her fingers over Narcissa's face, mesmerized by her hairless pale complexion.

Lucius moved over to peer at the child, a light smirk playing on his lips. "She does take after you, poor thing."

"Lucius!" Narcissa gasped. "Don't be mean."

"I'm sure Jacinta will turn out far prettier than Severus," drawled her husband, smiling devilishly.

Returning the smile with more than a hint of mischief himself, Severus invited, "Why don't you hold her, Lucius. She's very _affectionate_."

The other man shrugged and held out his arms, into which his wife deposited the child. He cradled her in the crook of one arm in order to get a good view of her, pleased to note the infant studying him intently. "She does seem to have inherited your intelligence. She likes me. Ow!"

Head cocked at an unseemly angle, a large clump of his hair gripped in the infant's fist, he tried to pry Jacinta away without losing a good portion of his mane. Narcissa watched, snickering behind her hand.

"Oh, did I forget to mention she has a thing for long hair?" Severus asked, smirking.

Refusing to lose composure, Lucius took the girl in both hands and slowly moved her out to arm's length, gently forcing her to relinquish hold. She graced him with a toothless grin as drool dripped down onto her lavender blouse.

"Niki was the same way," he replied, as if Severus hadn't deliberately sicked the child on him. He shook his hair back off his shoulders, then brought Jacinta in to rest on his chest. In a soothing, smooth voice Lucius said, "That's okay, Jacinta, I don't blame you. You'll need to come over more often so Uncle Lucius can teach you proper manners. Your father tries, but he's an oaf."

At this, Narcissa lost it. Her stifled giggles became full fledged guffaws, to Severus' astonishment. He'd never considered the cultured woman capable of behaving in anything less than a refined demeanor. Noticing Severus gawking at her, she quickly regained her bearing.

"Severus, I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you!"

"It's quite alright, Narcissa," Severus assured her. "I enjoy watching this little exhibition as much as you do."

"Peasants," Lucius retorted. "Come, Jacinta, I'll introduce you to my father." He sashayed halfway across the room before Narcissa called out to him.

"Abraxas is at my mother's house checking on Rodolphus," she reminded him.

Addressing the child in a loud voice, Lucius sighed heavily and said, "I suppose we're stuck with them for now. Shall we?" He whirled around gracefully and headed back the way he'd come. "This is your first lesson: being gracious to people you'd rather hex."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Kreacher, what are you doing?" asked Regulus.

The elf nearly leapt out of his skin, his immense eyes popping as he thrust a wad of paper into his cupboard, slammed the door, and turned to face the youth. "Nothing, Master Regulus, only cleaning up garbage. Kreacher cleans the Black home, Kreacher is being good house elf."

"Why did you shove a newspaper into your cupboard?"

Kreacher grimaced, did a little sidestep as he snapped his fingers, then looked up at Regulus. "There's not being a newspaper in Kreacher's cupboard, good Master Regulus."

"You just made it disappear, didn't you?"

With a grunt, Kreacher threw himself headfirst against the wall, then rapped his skull repeatedly on the hard wood. "Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus—"

"Stop punishing yourself!" Regulus ordered, truly concerned. The elf froze in place. "Give me that newspaper now."

"No, is evil!" bawled the poor creature, resuming his head banging.

"Now, Kreacher."

Wailing piteously, Kreacher snapped his fingers again and the paper appeared, hovering in the air in front of Regulus. He plucked it up to look at the front page; Ministry business, scandal at Borgin and Burkes. Page by page he scanned the rag, unable to discern why this particular paper was 'evil'. Then he got to the society page. There, as bold as you please, was a large photo of a wedding between two people he didn't particularly care for: James Potter and Lily Evans. Beside Potter, smiling broadly at the traitorous union, stood his brother Sirius. The caption read _A Perfect July Day for a Perfect Wedding_.

For a moment he couldn't move. If his parents saw this they'd go ballistic! No wonder Kreacher was trying to hide it, to 'protect' his family. He skimmed the article, not that he had any interest in it, but in case the dark lord asked for any information. He didn't remember having read anything about this wedding up to now, which made sense since publicizing it would have been simply asking for Death Eaters to come and crash the party. How many Order members had been there? The article gave no list of guests save Sirius as best man, and Alice Longbottom as matron of honor, both of whom he knew to be in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix.

He lowered the paper to see the elf cringing and wringing his hands. "It's alright, Kreacher, you did the right thing."

"Mistress Black would be crushed," Kreacher added, sniffling and nodding sadly. "Wicked Master Sirius-blood-traitor breaks Mistress's heart. Kreacher not wanting Mistress to see this."

Handing the paper back to the elf, Regulus said quietly, "Get rid of it."

Kreacher happily disposed of it as ordered in a flash of flame, before trotting off to some duty or other. Regulus, feeling quite troubled, went on up to his room. Hopefully no one would be cruel enough or foolhardy enough to inform his parents that Sirius had made it into the _Daily Prophet_, and hopefully they wouldn't miss reading the silly magazine. But he wouldn't be that lucky, he never was. They'd find out, they'd pitch a horrific fit culminating in forcing him to choose sides again, and for obvious reasons he'd choose his parents' side, even if he thought they were wrong, which in this case he didn't. A mudblood was not on a par with purebloods, they had no right to pretend otherwise, and Sirius had no right to throw it in his family's face this way. He wouldn't put it past his brother to have paid a reporter to include the picture!

As he stretched out on his bed, he wondered if Severus had heard about this news. Pathetic as it was, he'd carried a torch for the mudblood for as long as Regulus had known him, probably part of the reason—or even the whole reason—he and Glenna had broken up. He shook his head gloomily. What was it about that Evans girl that caused such a stranglehold on Snape?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus calmly folded the newspaper and set it on his grandparents' coffee table. The _one_ day he came to visit and happened to read the _Daily Prophet_, it carried news like this. He'd expected Lily to marry the Potter puke, he'd heard at the Millennium Ball that they were engaged. Even so, he couldn't quite reconcile how he felt about it.

He'd loved Lily since he was a small boy, had loved her in a desperate, obsessive way he didn't even understand; they'd parted on bad terms after years of yearning for her. Glenna had been a soothing balm to make the pain of Lily go away, he'd learned to love her more than he thought himself capable. Then Glenna had torn his heart apart and married Jack, but finally he was starting to heal. Sure, it hurt like hell to see her, yet knowing she still cared for him even a little made it more bearable. To have Jacinta as a living, breathing embodiment of their love was more than he could have asked for. Now Lily was worming her way back into his life without even trying, and without Glenna to save him, he felt himself succumbing to the pull. It was insane, the whole affair! After so long, why should it bother him to know Lily had gotten married—even to Potter, the most hateful, despicable man alive?

"Severus, are you upset about something?" asked his grandmother.

"I'm fine," he answered, blanking the emotion from his face. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

When Lucius received the call from Lord Voldemort, he responded right away, as always. He didn't expect, however, to end up at a seashore with the dark lord standing on a stack of boulders surveying the waters. He glanced around quickly at the desolate area, then removed his mask and lowered his hood. The stiff, cold wind whipped at his bound hair. For August, it seemed it should feel warmer, he thought while prostrating himself.

"Lucius, prompt as usual," said the dark lord, whose voice was barely audible over the wind and crashing waves. He descended from the rocks and approached to within a meter.

"My lord, where are we?"

"Get up, Lucius. We're on the British coast." He pointed across the water. "Over there is Spain."

_Spain_? This couldn't be good. Since he certainly wasn't summoned for a geography lesson, the master must have something else in mind. "Yes, my lord," was all he could think to say. Where was Bella, who never left her master's side unless absolutely necessary? Why were they meeting here instead of at the castle? What in bloody hell was going on?

Voldemort allowed his thin lips to curl upward. How desperately Malfoy wished to ask the reason for being here, yet he dared not. He could almost see the young man's mind working behind the placid façade, didn't need Legilimency to determine his thoughts. It tickled him to hold such control over even the most mundane activities of his followers.

"We're going on a trip, Lucius, you and I. We need to plan, do we not?"

"Absolutely, master," choked out Malfoy. A trip? Like a vacation? Was he bloody, f-king _kidding_? And was he to go alone with the master? No one else seemed invited. "Where, may I ask, are we going?"

"To Spain," said Voldemort, rolling his eyes like he believed the other to be a moron.

"And how long will we be gone?"

"I don't know, these things are delicate situations. A few days, a week, maybe more. That all depends on how quickly I attain my ends and how satisfied I am with the outcome."

For a long moment Lucius didn't reply. What ends? He'd not mentioned any objectives at all. If it were some important mission, would he not have brought along more of his followers? Had the dark lord's semi-tenuous grip on sanity finally snapped? If he wanted to go on holiday, why on Earth would he force Lucius to go with him instead of Bellatrix? No doubt she could be a royal pain in the ass, but she was his…squeeze. His stomach did a sickening leap. What if the master had grown tired of Bella and decided to explore the, ah, other side of sexuality? His breathing sped up to match his racing heart.

"M-my lord, are you sure you don't want Bellatrix to accompany you?"

Voldemort waved a dismissive hand, his face grim. "Admittedly she's an excellent servant, and she'll be rather peeved to find out you're usurping her position to be my escort, but she can be… too exuberant at times, shall we say."

_Too much information, too much information_, Lucius' mind screamed, while simultaneously struggling to come up with a plausible excuse to refuse the dark lord's 'offer'. "Exuberant is good," he squeaked, momentarily brain dead.

"She draws too much attention, Malfoy!" Voldemort shot back, no longer making an effort to sugarcoat it. "She screams like a banshee, she has a marked tendency for unrestrained killing at will, and I'm not taking her!"

"Yes, my lord, forgive me," Lucius murmured. He suppressed the idea of suggesting another replacement, lest the man _crucio_ him on the spot for his insolence. "When are we to leave?"

"Tomorrow. Go home, gather whatever you might need for a week, and we'll meet here at this time tomorrow. No one is to know of this, is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord," he mumbled. _As if I'd tell anybody I'd become your boy toy._

Voldemort's red eyes bored into the top of Lucius' head, for he'd lowered his face in mortification and dread. "I'm surprised you didn't ask _why_ we're going to Spain, Lucius. Are you so apathetic you don't even care to know?"

"I do as you wish, master, I don't need to question." The tremble in his tone reached the other's ears.

With one bony hand the dark lord lifted the young man's chin to stare into his eyes, and while Lucius dearly wanted to look away, he dared not. Instantly his Occlumency barriers shielded any thoughts of disloyalty, leaving the rest open to be ravaged at will. After only a minute, Voldemort began to laugh, a high, frightening cackle. He let go of Lucius and backed off, practically doubling over with mirth, and convincing the younger man even more strongly that his master had gone completely batty.

When at last he regained control of himself, he wiped the laughter tears from the corners of his eyes. "Ah, Malfoy, you never cease to amaze me! You sincerely thought I chose you to go with me to be my _sex toy_?" Another round of ear splitting laughter prevented him from speaking until he again caught his breath, heaving an exhausted sigh. "I haven't laughed like that since—ever. I must say, you think quite highly of yourself, don't you? If I'd wanted you, I'd have taken you when you were still a boy."

"I'm sorry, master," Lucius responded, blushing furiously. "It just sounded—there was no one else—the ambiguity—please forgive my idiocy."

_He would have submitted to me_. It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact in Voldemort's mind. He'd read the fear in the young man's thoughts, but also the obedience; even though the thought repulsed him, he would obey. Voldemort could hardly ask for more in a follower. He had indeed chosen the right man to accompany him. "I forgive because I am merciful." _And greatly entertained._

"Thank you, my lord. May I ask why we're going to Spain?"

"Have you ever thought of what it would be like to be a vampire?" asked the dark lord, gazing out at the rolling waves of the sea. "Uncanny strength, immortality—and for you, eternal youth."

"I can't say that I have, master," answered Lucius with the slightest catch in his voice. It was going from one horror to another. Was this why they were going—to make him a _vampire_?

Voldemort wheeled round in time to see dismay on Lucius' face, sending him yet again into a fit of laughter. "Honestly, Malfoy, I need to keep you around! You amuse me no end. Get a grip on yourself, I'm not planning to create a vampire, nor to become one."

Lucius thought it wise to say nothing.

"You have heard of Yadiro Buitrago, I assume?"

The name was vaguely familiar from somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind. "Yes, I believe I have. Isn't he a cult leader?"

"Yes, a very prominent leader, very highly respected by his underlings. I have contacted him, we are to meet tomorrow at his estate. He requested I bring only one servant, which would be you, and I expect you to keep your eyes open and watch my back."

"Of course, my lord."

"If all goes according to plan, we will form an alliance with his cult." Voldemort seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

"An alliance with vampires, master? Already you've sent Macnair to form a coalition with the giants…"

"And?"

Slight hesitation. "And I'm not convinced we can trust giants. They're not very smart."

"What has this to do with vampires?" challenged Voldemort. "They're known for being clever."

"And treacherous," Lucius added softly. "Their powers of persuasion and hypnosis are frequently misused."

Voldemort raised what was left of his eyebrows in consternation. "You think the greatest dark lord of all time, the greatest Legilimens of all time, can be taken in by their parlor tricks?" His voice rose to a miffed crescendo as he stared down the other man.

"No, of course not, my lord! I meant myself, the rest of your followers!" he hurried to reply.

"Hmm," said the other, pacified enough to forego the Cruciatus. "I suppose that might pose a risk, yet if we're working to the same end, there would be no need for betrayal or manipulation."

"Except to suck our blood," muttered Lucius under his breath.

"I heard that. Go home, prepare what you need—and don't bother with garlic, that's a load of rubbish!" commanded Voldemort.

_How about a crucifix and holy water?_ he thought subversively, then bowed low before Disapparating for home.


	48. Chapter 48

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Eight

They arrived on the coast of Spain in the late afternoon, both a bit weary. Lucius had forgotten how much energy was consumed in long distance travel, and they weren't even there yet. He didn't look forward to the last leg of the journey. Lord Voldemort surveyed the land before them, then pointed southwest.

"That way. Stay close." He Disapparated again before Lucius had time to answer.

When they reappeared side by side, they both stood gaping at the estate in front of them—or at what used to be a very large manor home. What is was _now_ was a tremendous jumble of broken, rotted, and charred boards, shattered glass, twisted and bent metal. Anything intact—and from the looks of it, little if anything had survived—had long ago been spirited away. It sat a pitiful, burned shell, a testament to mob rule and wrath. Tall weeds and grasses had grown up through the cracks overtop of everything, making it look all the more desolate.

"My lord, this can't possibly be the right place," Lucius began, then abruptly closed his mouth. _Never contradict the dark lord_, he reminded himself in hopes he wasn't too late to heed the warning.

"This is where Mr. Buitrago said to come," maintained Voldemort. He crossed his arms over his chest. He'd find a way to make the vampire pay dearly if this had been a trick. "In the event that it's necessary, and I don't anticipate that it will be, how do you kill a vampire?"

"A wooden rod through the heart," Lucius said at once.

"Anything else?" prompted the dark lord.

"Holy water in large quantities, sunlight…I don't know of anything else, master." There'd be no point in mentioning that crucifixes and holy water sprinkles were enough to basically stun the creatures, not kill them. Surely the master knew that, he knew everything he was quizzing Lucius on now.

"You're a wizard, Lucius, not a Muggle. We have more refined methods." Again the snarl-like smirk crossed his features. "In my earlier years I spent a great deal of time and energy on research projects dedicated to protecting myself from dangerous creatures. While not all were successful, two were. One is the silver spell for disposing of werewolves; the other is one for vampires." His smirk widened to a gruesome, self-congratulatory smile. Because finding and catching vampires wasn't the easiest thing to accomplish, he'd only had the opportunity to try it out once, but once was enough to ensure that it worked. _"Sonneliht beth."_

_"Sonneliht beth,"_ Lucius repeated, already feeling more at ease. While Muggle methods might be effective, he simply felt more comfortable with his wand in his hand. "Must it strike the heart?"

"No, that's the beauty of it. Vampires are exceedingly fast, much like werewolves, making them a difficult target. However, a hit on any part of the body will cause a wound that spreads throughout within seconds." His red eyes shone with a strange triumph. "It's roughly equivalent to staking him out in the sun."

Lucius bowed from genuine respect. "You truly are a genius, master."

"Yes, I know."

The sun dipped below the horizon as they spoke, the dusk making odd shadows all around them. They'd changed position to stand back to back, waiting cautiously, growing impatient. At last a man in clothing reminiscent of another era casually approached from the opposite direction of the demolished home. Both heads turned to him. When he was close enough to clearly distinguish his face, Lucius gave a small start.

He had to be human, not vampire, for while not unattractive, he didn't fit the description of young and beautiful as all the legends claimed. In fact, although he had a chiseled, aristocratic bearing to him, he appeared to be around Abraxas' age—late forties, possibly fifty—with thinning black hair cut to the collar and a goatee with a stripe of silver running down on either side of the ball of his chin. His dark eyes pierced out from his white skin.

"Lord Voldemort," the man enunciated with a hint of an accent, the words clipped and precise. One hand went to his chest and he bowed in such a way that it seemed remarkably as if his very presence were bestowing an honor upon the dark lord rather than showing respect for him. "I am Yadiro Buitrago." His own name he pronounced in his native Spanish in a melodic, exotic lilt.

Voldemort dipped his head in response. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my servant, Lucius Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" smiled Buitrago. "I have heard the name many times over these past three centuries."

Lucius bowed as he would to his master. "Only good things, I hope."

The vampire gave a light laugh without answering. "As you can see, my mansion is no fit place any longer. After I became a vampire, the people of the region took it upon themselves to try to murder me. If you both will come with me."

Walking two steps behind the others, wand in hand, Lucius followed the pair, his eyes and ears alert. Of all times of the day, he hated dusk for his inability to see long distances clearly. Dusk was rapidly fading into night, and after the werewolf incident less than three months ago, night had shifted into the most disliked part of the day.

Something felt wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it. If they were being led into a trap, there was precious little he could do about it. He trusted the dark lord to be able to take out half a dozen vampires in quick succession, and he'd get as many as he could himself, yet who knew how many there might be? _You're getting paranoid, Malfoy_, he chided himself. Besides, if Lord Voldemort couldn't defend himself, no hope existed for either of them. And why would Buitrago set up an elaborate trap, especially when the master had been the one to contact _him_? Victims for blood were not so hard to come by that he'd need to ambush people from another country!

Ahead of him the two continued to exchange small talk. They were in the woods now, the air was calm, but Lucius' heart was racing. He strained his ears, eyes flitting wildly. He dreaded another confrontation with werewolves as much as he abhorred the thought of being sucked dry by a clan of vampires. Was tonight a full moon? He hadn't thought to check, and clouds covered most of the sky.

A deep voice wafted back to him. "There are no werewolves here, Mr. Malfoy. My people make sure of that."

Lucius jumped a bit at the unexpected address, then realized he'd been so focused on being a bodyguard he hadn't bothered to listen to the conversation of the men he was following. In retrospect, the word 'werewolf' did seem to have come from the master.

"Where are your people, Mr. Buitrago?" he asked, looking high and low.

"Everywhere. There are sentinels throughout the entire grounds, though they stay hidden. They are part of our flock—cult, I believe you term it."

"How many belong to your cult?" Voldemort inquired.

"Those who live here? Between fifteen and twenty," answered the leader. "There are many more across the span of a hundred villages, those who count themselves under my protection," he added, pointedly noting he was a man of influence.

Voldemort's eyes lit up; this was what he'd hoped to hear. They had stopped in the woods for no reason apparent to the wizards…until Buitrago reached down onto the ground and lifted up a thick metal ring attached to a trap door. It struck Voldemort and Lucius at the same moment: they were being invited into a _cave_. This vampire leader lived in the _ground_ like a gopher or a snake!

Buitrago waved a hand to indicate they should enter. Without betraying any emotion, they descended on thick slabs of stone carved into a staircase. By the time they reached the bottom, their disdain had morphed into a grudging awe. Lit by multitudes of candles and torches like a medieval castle, this chamber alone ran no less than twenty meters long, ten meters wide, its ceiling supported by arched beams, its stone lined walls covered in tapestries. It seemed in effect to be a manor built underground, without the aid of magic. A table where a banquet of sorts set waiting ran down part of the area. Several young men and women came in from various directions upon hearing them.

"Servants," said Buitrago from behind them. "Even though we _sangristas_, as we call ourselves, do not eat, our human servants do. And our guests, of course."

"You have human servants?" asked Lucius, amazed. Who would agree to live here to serve vampires? Then again, with hypnosis as a weapon, they didn't necessarily need to agree, did they?

One of the women, barely more than a teenager, approached Lucius, seductively brushing her body up against him. He took an embarrassed step away. She moved in again. "_Bienvenido, amigo de Yadiro."_ (_Welcome, friend of Yadiro_)

"Um, thank you." Again he stepped over to establish a space between them.

"_Quisiera probarme, senor?_" she cooed coyly, folding down her collar.

Lucius hesitated; she couldn't have said what he _thought_ she said. Those Spanish lessons had been so long ago. He glanced over at Yadiro, who was struggling to contain a smile.

"She wants to know if you wish to bite her."

"No!" exclaimed Lucius, to Buitrago's further amusement.

_"No es sangrista,"_ he said to the girl, who looked dubiously at Lucius, then at Voldemort. "You must admit, the two of you are very pale, like us. It is an honest mistake."

_"Tal vez quiere hacer el amor conmigo,"_ the girl persisted, eyeing Lucius hungrily.

"_Largate_, Veronica," Buitrago said firmly, yet not cruelly. The girl's mouth formed a pout, but she whirled and stomped out. "They like to see new faces, please excuse them. Come this way."

Lucius bit back the question poised on his tongue. What had she said, and why did he send her away? Then again, did he really want to know? Buitrago led them to the table and bid them sit, while he seated himself at the head of the table.

"It has been much time since I was a host to humans. I have not forgotten my duties entirely." One clap of his hands brought servants scurrying over, pouring wine, serving beef and chicken and vegetables, even delicate pastries. He gave a mournful sigh. "At times, I long to eat. After three hundred years, food still looks delectable."

They endured what to Lucius felt like a very awkward meal. Buitrago wasn't a problem, even though he ate nothing, only sipped from a goblet of thick red liquid he assumed to be blood. It was Lord Voldemort who distracted him; they'd never in all these years eaten a meal together, he'd had no idea how poor the master's table manners were. The dark lord tended to monopolize the conversation—no surprise there—while resting his elbows on the table and talking with food in his mouth. It was repugnant. Years of Lucius' own training came screaming into his mind. He felt a terrible urge to shove the dark lord's elbows off the table, slap his mouth for boorishness, and scold him on proper etiquette. However, as his desire to live superseded his revulsion, he averted his eyes and listened in silence.

The conversation was bland, no business, at Buitrago's request. They were finished with the meal, pushing back their chairs to rise when another pallid man entered. He seemed neither surprised by the guests, nor particularly welcoming of them. When he strode over to the table, it was evident that he was younger than Buitrago, smooth faced, mid-twenties; his light hair was cropped short and he wore modern Muggle clothing, yet his bearing bespoke the truth.

He took Buitrago's hand and kissed it as a show of respect. "Yadiro, _como estas?_" he said stiffly, as if irritated with a family member.

"Lord Voldemort, Mr. Malfoy, this is Mateo. He prefers not to use a surname. He is my right hand man and my best friend." Buitrago stressed the last two words, suppressing his own desire to lash out at the young man.

Mateo nodded curtly, scowling, his light blue eyes glinting animosity.

Yadiro got up and through gritted teeth murmured in Spanish so low only his friend could hear, "This is not the time for your tantrums. We will speak later."

"Am I being dismissed?" retorted the other hotly in flawless, unaccented English, not caring if the intruders heard, hoping they did, in fact.

"You are welcome to stay," said Buitrago, placing a friendly hand on the other vampire's shoulder, then squeezing hard to indicate that he'd best observe appropriate behavior if he chose to remain.

Seemingly out of spite, Mateo bared his fangs in a ferocious smile. "I'd love to chat with our new friends, Diro. Why don't you all follow me to the sitting room?" He wheeled and flounced out to the left.

Buitrago gave an abashed grin at Lucius and Voldemort, though inside he was raging. How dare Mateo try to humiliate him with such conduct! "Before we go, let me explain something. As a human, I was what you call a Muggle. A nobleman, wealthy, powerful—but a Muggle. Mateo was a wizard like you; when he was brought into the fold, he lost his magical ability."

"Brought into the fold," repeated Voldemort. "A euphemism for changed into a vampire?"

"Yes. He bitterly resented it—both being created a _sangrista_ and losing his powers. To meet wizards in full possession of their magic reminds him of his incapacity." Buitrago's eyes flicked in the direction Mateo had gone. With the vampire's exceptional hearing, he wondered if Mateo was listening to them now.

Voldemort nodded slightly. "At one time I had considered becoming a vampire myself for the immortality, strength, and other attributes you possess. When I discovered my magic would disintegrate, my interest evaporated as well."

"It is as they say," Buitrago answered. "Death is the great equalizer. All _sangristas_ start out on even footing. Come." He ushered them into the adjoining room, half the size of the previous one, yet built as carefully and decorated tastefully with comfortable furniture and rich, colorful tapestries and carpeting. More candles and torches lit the perimeter of the room. Mateo stood beside one of the chairs, his expression blank.

When the others entered, Mateo scooted around to flop down and cross his legs. Not bothering with preliminaries, he waited until they'd seated themselves, then said, "So, Lord Voldemort, Diro tells me you plan to take over the wizarding world."

"That is correct," replied the dark lord, his eyes narrowing.

"How do we _sangristas_ fit into this plan?" He deliberately avoided a warning glare shot at him from Buitrago.

"Your powers of mind control could prove very useful in bending the will of the Ministry in my favor. With the Ministry under my control, my Death Eaters would no longer need fear reprisals and arrest. They would be free to eliminate undesirables and troublemakers, although your kind could certainly help in this task as well. The system would fall in short order, to be replaced by rule of purebloods."

"Ah, yes," answered Mateo. "You've thought this out very thoroughly. Have you also considered our reward? Basically I'm asking 'what's in it for us'?"

Voldemort's thin lips stretched ever thinner into a semblance of a smile, his red eyes hard, and he turned to Buitrago. "Do your underlings frequently presume to commandeer their master's authority?"

Yadiro's own eyes flashed. "Mateo is not an underling, nor am I his master! I am the leader, the protector of our cult, but all have the right to express opinions."

Now was probably not the right time for Lucius to speak up, what with the dark lord becoming agitated and all, but he feared if he didn't, he might soon find himself fighting for his life. "My lord, do you think perhaps we should postpone this discussion until tomorrow? It's been a taxing day, in the morning we might all be more amicable."

"Vampires sleep during the day, Lucius," he hissed in return.

"Lord Voldemort, I agree with Mr. Malfoy," said Buitrago, rising from his chair. "I will have a servant take you to your rooms. Tomorrow evening when heads are cooler, we will talk." _And meanwhile I will have my own little discussion with Mateo_, he seethed.

He waited until a male servant had led the wizards away, then he stalked over to Mateo, who sat smirking at his own cleverness, and backhanded him violently across the face.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was no Malfoy Manor, but Lucius was impressed just the same. To build a structure like this underground was no small feat, especially considering no magic had been employed. Even the large bedroom he'd been led to, stone walled like the rest, was worthy of compliment. He might have noticed more if there hadn't been a naked Veronica splayed across his bed, her private regions barely covered by a sheet.

He cleared his throat loudly. "_Perdoname, senorita. Esta es mi cama_." Had he said that right? It was hard to concentrate, he had to avert his eyes.

"_Si_," she answered brashly. Alright, she _did_ understand it was _his_ bed.

Oh, to hell with it, he couldn't think straight in Spanish! Particularly not with a nude woman throwing herself at him! He probably should have paid closer attention to his tutor, yet seriously, how often was the topic of brazen hussies trying to seduce him going to come up in tutoring sessions? "Please leave my room."

Veronica knelt up on the bed, letting the sheet fall. From the corner of his eye Lucius saw it and spun fully around until his back was to her, his face reddening. To his mingled horror and relief, the dark lord came strolling in at that precise moment.

"Really, Lucius, you could use a little more discretion," Voldemort sneered. "You've been in the room less than a minute."

"She was already here, master. She doesn't understand when I tell her to go away," he replied, feeling utterly mortified at the whole situation.

To his complete astonishment, Voldemort let loose a stream of words in harsh-sounding Spanish. The girl burst into tears, jumped off the bed, gathered her clothes, and ran past Lucius out the door. The dark lord cackled to himself.

"I didn't know you spoke Spanish," Lucius admitted, turning to the man.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," was all he said, continuing his infuriating smirking.

"What did you tell her, my lord?"

"I merely said you found her repulsive and that you'd rather cohabitate with a toothless hag. Oh, and that you prefer men."

Lucius went from red to deep scarlet. He hadn't wanted to hurt the girl's feelings, and he certainly didn't relish the idea of everyone thinking…what they'd think after Veronica was done. He couldn't do or say a damn thing about it, not if he wished to get home to his wife in one piece, though he shot the master a decidedly scorching glare.

Voldemort ignored the petulant pouting of his subordinate. He'd done the boy a favor and this was the gratitude he received. How typical. He crossed the room to throw himself into the only chair, his mood altering rapidly. He hadn't liked the blunt attitude of that Mateo, it smacked of disrespect, and if this was how tomorrow's meeting went, he'd be most unhappy.

"Is there something you need, master?" Lucius hadn't been lying when he said it had been a long, hard day. Being late summer, night hadn't fallen until well past nine o'clock, it was almost eleven now, and he was still a bit worn out from the trip. If the dark lord would be kind enough to move along, he could get some rest. "Perhaps we should turn in for the night."

"Are you politely trying to coax me from the room, Malfoy?" asked Voldemort. Realizing it was futile to expect an honest response, he blew out a disgruntled breath, got up, and went to the door. He was in no mood now for talking, and he'd prefer to brood in privacy without listening to the young man's pandering or, worse yet, snoring. "You'd better hope tomorrow goes better than today."

"It's my sincerest desire," concurred Lucius. Once Lord Voldemort had gone, he sat down heavily on the bed. He didn't have a good feeling about this plan, these vampires. As a protective measure he took out his wand to place wards around his room and bed. At least he wouldn't wake up as one of _them_.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus came home from a hard day at work to find Regulus on the sofa watching TV, the kids playing around him, and his mother in the kitchen. A delicious aroma wafted in… spaghetti.

Regulus looked away from the screen briefly. "Hey, Severus."

"Reg." He came around and dropped down beside his friend, a slight smirk on his face. "Do you live here now?"

Regulus blushed. This wasn't the first time Severus had come home to see him planted there staring at the television, only to tease him about loving it too much. It wasn't _his_ fault wizards didn't have these exciting toys. "Your mum said I could watch."

Severus shrugged. He couldn't care less, he just enjoyed harassing him over it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "You kids pipe down, you're getting on my nerves."

The twins lowered their volume a touch.

"Did you know they give reports on events in other countries?" asked Regulus animatedly. "Why, in America—"

"I don't care, Regulus."

"Well, I saw—"

The other young man cranked his head over, opening one eye. "What part of 'I don't care' is foreign to you?"

"Oh, don't be such a piss-ant," grumbled Regulus. One of the twins popped up in front of the screen; he unceremoniously nudged the head out of his way. "You're no fun, all you do is work and complain. You need to go out, get a girlfriend." A sudden tensing of Severus' body let him know he'd been heard.

"This coming from _you_, who's never to my knowledge had a date," drawled Severus, sitting up straight and opening both eyes.

"Have so," shot back Regulus. "My mum has set me up with pureblood girls a few times, only I didn't like them. Anyway, we were talking about you."

"How I run my life is my business, Black. If I want to be a 'piss-ant', I'll be one."

In a fit of pique, Regulus crossed his arms and stared straight ahead. "I'm trying to watch my program."

Julius and Justina had started an argument directly behind the boys on the couch. Their shrill, angry tones punctuated the silence between dialogue on TV.

"Would you kids shut up!" Severus barked. Sudden stillness settled over the room.

"What're you yelling at them for?" demanded Regulus. "They didn't do anything for you to take out your pent up rage on them."

"You haven't seen rage yet," Severus retorted. To the children who stood there bug-eyed watching, he hollered, "Go to your room! If I hear you fighting again, you're both going to get it!" They scurried out and slammed the bedroom door.

"You're such a twat," Regulus said, getting up. "You yell at them because you're mad at me or Glenna or whoever. It's not _their_ fault you screwed it up with Glenna. It's not _their_ fault your mudblood got married. Maybe if you developed your personality beyond troll level, you'd be happier!"

Severus was halfway out of his seat, ready to attack when Eileen came in wearing an apron and holding a sauce-covered spoon. He nonchalantly sank back down.

"Boys, what's the problem in here?"

"Nothing, mum. The twins were getting rambunctious so I sent them out."

"Regulus, you're staying for supper, aren't you?" she asked.

He looked over at Severus' hateful glare, then a mischievous smile crept over him. "I'd love that, Mrs. Snape, thank you." He flopped back down onto the couch, flinging an arm around Severus' shoulders and squeezing. "Isn't this great, Severus? We get to spend all evening together!"

Leaning his head back once more, Severus groaned, "Shoot me now."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Sobs coming through the closed door alarmed Abraxas as he walked by on his way back from the library. Narcissa had kept to herself all evening, and now this. He tapped lightly. "Narcissa, may I come in?"

A sudden cessation of noise, then quick footsteps. The young woman opened the door with an attempt at a smile, but her face was flushed, her eyes red. "Yes, Abraxas?"

Never one to pussyfoot around, he said, "What's wrong? I heard you crying."

She'd been discovered, there was no point in pretending. She waved him inside and went to sit on her bed. Abraxas stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. "I'm worried about Lucius. He wasn't allowed to tell me where he's going or when he'll be back or what he's doing."

"I worry about him, too," confessed the man.

"He gets hurt sometimes," she said, her chin starting to quiver again. "What if he's dead and I don't even know it?" Her body convulsed and a hard sob ripped from her throat.

Abraxas came around to sit next to her, gently pulling her close with one arm. She turned to bury her face on his chest as she cried. "I'm sure he's fine, Narcissa." He wasn't sure of that at all, not after all the tortures his son had endured at that maniac's hands, after all the times he'd nearly been killed. It wouldn't do to bring that up, Narcissa needed comfort, not more fear. The poor girl; no wife should have to put up with this. "He'll be home soon."

"I don't—feel good," she choked out between sobs.

"What do you mean? Where are you sick?"

"Everywhere," she cried. "I'm dying and Lucius isn't here!"

Abraxas patted her back softly, soothingly. "Shh, you're not dying. We'll check you out and I'll fix you up a potion."

She nodded while continuing to weep against him. _Lucius, get your ass home_, his father grumbled silently. _Your wife needs you._


	49. Chapter 49

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Forty-Nine

Mateo lifted a hand to his smarting cheek, the smugness wiped away in the time it took Yadiro Buitrago to raise his hand again, fist clenched. The younger vampire could have fought, both were strong men, but he recognized the fury simmering in Yadiro's eyes. No one he knew could withstand an actual fight with this _sangrista_ and live long enough to tell of it.

"How dare you humiliate me that way!" Buitrago hissed, reverting to his native Spanish, leaning in close. With nowhere to go, Mateo crushed himself against the back of the chair, swallowing hard. "You have the gall to affront the most powerful dark wizard in the world, and I must pretend you have permission to do so in order to avoid looking weak!"

Mateo felt like the impetuous younger brother again, the way he had centuries ago when Yadiro had befriended him, when he had no one. "I'm sorry, Diro," he gulped. A punch landed on the side of his head in answer to his apology, bouncing his skull off the back of the wooden chair.

"Sorry isn't good enough! I will not have my reputation sullied by anyone, including you!"

Struggling to squirm around Buitrago, Mateo retorted, "You said we all have the right to our opinions."

Another backhand pinned him back in the chair. His face felt hot from the blows, yet he knew there would be no telltale bruises. Dead flesh doesn't bruise. It hurt, though.

"You have the right to voice your opinion in the meetings of our brethren, not to outsiders, not to humans, not to _wizards_." Buitrago's face was so close he could have kissed Mateo; instead he jerked him up by the front of his shirt, lifting him completely off the ground, and threw him viciously across the room.

Mateo hit the far wall and crumpled to the floor, then slowly got up onto his knees. If he stood up, he would be sending the message that he'd not learned his lesson, that he defied the leader. He'd seen firsthand what Yadiro was capable of, the monstrous beatings he'd administered to others, the deaths…

"Diro, please. I didn't mean it as disrespect toward you. I was angry at you because you wouldn't listen to my advice," he pleaded. "I was wrong to provoke the wizard, I regret my rebellion."

Buitrago strode over and Mateo braced himself for another blow, or perhaps a kick. He'd rarely been the recipient of his friend's wrath, and he decidedly did not like it, which didn't mean he didn't deserve it. With full knowledge of what he was doing, he'd baited the dark wizard while Yadiro had to sit there like a fool. Of course Yadiro was angry, he had every right to be.

Yadiro extended a hand; Mateo looked at it warily, wondering if it was going to strike, then reached out and clasped it. Yadiro pulled him to his feet, the ire faded from his countenance.

"You have a point, I didn't listen to your counsel before agreeing to meet Lord Voldemort. You're my best friend, I owe you that much." With that he returned to the sitting area and lowered himself into one of the chairs, indicating the chair opposite him.

Mateo sat. His face hurt, his body hurt, but more than that his mind was troubled by the unrest between them. Yadiro had been there for him when he was wholly alone, when Mateo's wife had taken their son and unborn child and disappeared because she feared the creature her husband had become through none of his own doing. Yadiro had given him a place to live, had commiserated with him in his misery. Yadiro had helped him track down the _sangrista_ responsible for creating him, only to discover he was the same vampire who'd brought Yadiro unwillingly into the fold a few years earlier. Together they'd slaughtered him like the animal he was…

"Forgive me, my friend," Mateo began. "I do respect your authority, I believe you desire only the best for us. But I've spent a good part of the last hundred years in Britain, I've spent a lot of time with witches and wizards there; you have not. I hear what they say about this Voldemort."

"What do they say, Mateo?"

"Nothing good. He's evil, they say."

Buitrago couldn't contain a wry smile. "Do they not say the same of us?"

"He's only out for himself, he even treats his own followers as badly as he treats his enemies," Mateo continued, growing more spirited. "I don't trust him, he's not trying to help vampires, he wants to use us. When he achieves his end with our aid, what will become of us?"

There was a long period of silence while Buitrago mulled over the words. When he at last spoke, it was slow, thoughtful, devoid of malice yet tinged with misgiving. "I see most of what goes on here, I hear what goes on in the outlying reaches of our cult. It's no secret to me that there are _sangristas_ who prefer your style of leadership to mine, who would support you in a coup. Tell me, Mateo, if I decide to join forces with him, will you incite my own against me?"

"Never!" exclaimed the other immediately, wounded to be even asked such a question. "You were like a father to me when I needed you, now you're my brother. If you force my hand, I must do what's best for us, to rally our people against Voldemort himself."

"You would disobey me and thwart me, cause our people to despise me?" asked Buitrago in astonishment.

"No, Diro," said Mateo softly. "Our people would despise you for leading us into a war that doesn't concern us. The wizarding world is in turmoil, there's murder and torture on a scale I've never witnessed. I can't foresee the human population welcoming us with open arms for helping a monster into power over them. They would hunt us down as they used to do long ago…" He dropped his eyes, saddened at the very thought.

A light hand brushed his leg as Yadiro patted him affectionately. "I thought you opposed joining forces because of jealousy that you're no longer a wizard. I apologize for my rash judgment. I tend to forget you're three hundred twenty-five, not still twenty-five."

Mateo grinned at him. "I like to think I've matured somewhat."

Yadiro sighed. This situation was much more complicated than he'd been led to believe. Mateo wouldn't lie to him, if he said he observed things in the wizarding world, it was so. Mateo put forth a logical assertion; he had yet to hear the dark lord's full position and promises. But human promises were fleeting, weren't they?

"Here is what I must do: hear out Lord Voldemort, then send the wizards home and hold a council meeting of all our cult. I will present both sides of the argument, let them voice what they wish to do. When we have a consensus, I'll contact Lord Voldemort with the verdict."

He flashed a fond smile at his friend. Mateo could be a pain at times; nevertheless, he was a good, dear friend. He hoped the events to come wouldn't alter that.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Mateo hadn't wanted to go to the meeting with Yadiro, but the leader had prevailed upon him, insisted he do so in order to show his support for his leader, to show their unity. After the stunt he'd pulled the previous day, he thought it wise to do as he was instructed. And so, he sat almost meekly in the circle, speaking only when addressed, letting Yadiro do the talking, proud to watch _el jefe_ as he took charge with the dignity of a true _sangrista_.

Lord Voldemort's promises of freedom for all vampires rang hollow to Mateo's ears, as he was sure they must for Yadiro. People's attitudes do not change because their ruler does. For vampires to declare themselves to the world would be tantamount to suicide no matter what the evil wizard spouted. His declaration that _sangristas_ would be permitted access to as much human blood as they desired was, admittedly, tempting. Mateo disliked rodent blood, he tolerated cattle blood, but nothing compared to the real thing. Even so, after Lord Voldemort's enemies had been sucked dry, would they be given sanction to start in on anyone they pleased? How long would this go on until the people refused access, perhaps even revolted? No, things worked fine the way they were. Yadiro had to see that.

When the meeting ended, Yadiro thanked the wizards for coming, and assured them that as soon as he'd spoken with the cult, he'd get back to them. Rather than spend the night, they'd opted to Apparate away. Mateo missed that. Sure, he could _fly_ now, yet at times he dearly missed his powers.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was well into the evening when Lucius arrived onto his front porch, exhausted but very glad to be home. The moment Sisidy saw him, she squealed for joy and ran to him.

"Master Lucius comes back! We was all so worried for Master Lucius."

He smiled as he stroked her bald pate. "You don't need to worry every time I leave the house."

"When Master is with wicked wizard, Sisidy worries," she said plainly.

"You mustn't call him that, Sisidy, ever. No one can have cause to believe there exists any disloyalty in my home. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master Lucius," she nodded. "Sisidy must lie."

He snorted, unable to suppress a chuckle. He didn't need to occupy his mind over Sisidy, she would do anything for the Malfoys. It was that damnable Dobby he needed to keep an eye on. Speak of the devil! Seconds later, Dobby Apparated into the foyer with Abraxas in tow; evidently he'd been lurking about and had brought the man when he noticed Lucius had arrived. Whether this was upon order was debatable.

"Hello, Father."

"Son." Abraxas' eyes ran up and down the young man, determining if he were injured. Satisfied that he appeared well, he said, "I don't suppose I may ask where you've been for two days?"

Lucius hesitated, then said, "Spain."

"Spain?" echoed his father. "What on Earth for?"

"I can't tell you."  
"Of course not," muttered Abraxas. "You need to go see your wife, Lucius. She hasn't been well, and your little jaunt didn't help matters."

The blood drained from Lucius' face. "What's wrong with her? It isn't serious, is it?"

Very solemnly, Abraxas answered, "It's very serious. She made me promise not to tell you."

Alarmed to a degree he didn't even realize was possible, Lucius gripped his father's arm. "Father, please! Can't you help her?"

In answer, Abraxas gave him a shove toward the stairway. "Go to her!"

Trembling so hard he feared his legs might collapse under him, Lucius ran up the stairs, only to discover Narcissa wasn't in their room. _She's sick and I wasn't here! Worrying over me has made it worse!_ He resisted the urge to scream her name at the top of his lungs. She didn't need that, he was sure. He found her in her study seated on the windowseat, window open, gazing into the moonlit night.

Upon hearing him come in, she turned her head. Recognition struck instantly and she burst into tears as she raced to him. "Lucius, you're home!"

Lucius clasped his arms around her, rocking her, kissing her over and over on the lips, cheeks, forehead. "I've only been gone for two days, my love." The knot in his stomach twisted painfully. He had to ask, he had to know, but in the worst way he didn't want to know anything was wrong with his beloved wife. "Narcissa, Father told me you're ill, but he…" A hard lump rose in his throat and he forced himself to swallow it. His voice caught as he said, "Please say you're alright."

Narcissa pulled back a little to look into his eyes, feeling a rush of pity for the terror etched in those beautiful grey orbs. "Everything's perfect, Lucius. I'm pregnant."

The anticipated joyous response didn't come. Lucius gaped stupidly at her, trying to process the words in light of the 'illness' he'd expected. All at once it hit him. "Pregnant? For real?"

"Yes. Your father performed the test last night—twice." The smile seemed permanently ingrained on her face.

Lucius lurched forward to snatch her in his arms for a tremendous kiss, then whirled her around the room, her feet never touching the floor. He set her down to kiss her again and again. "I love you! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!" Bending down to pat her flat abdomen, stroking it tenderly, he kissed it. "I love you, too."

Laughing, Narcissa cooed, "So…are you happy?"

"No, sweetheart, I'm _ecstatic_!"

"We should celebrate!" she said suddenly. "Let's invite Severus over, if it weren't for him—"

"That's true, very true," Lucius interrupted. "But there's another celebration I'd like to hold first." He easily swooped her up in his arms and rushed out the doorway, practically running to their bedroom. Dropping her lightly on the bed, he straddled her thighs, continuing to plant smooches up and down her arms, chest, and face. Unexpectedly a thought came to mind. "It won't hurt the baby, will it? We can make love, right?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh." He slid off to lie beside her, still holding her tight. "That's okay."

"I mean, _no_ it won't hurt the baby," she giggled.

"Oh!" Lucius exclaimed with renewed excitement. "In that case…"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, how come you look like that?" asked Julius, indicating the blondish hair and hazel eyes as he, Justina, and Severus, who was holding Jacinta, walked toward the park.

"Stupid! He told us before," Justina answered.

"Tina, quit," said Severus. "I agreed with Glenna that when I take Jacinta in public, I have to be in disguise. That's why you're supposed to call me 'Zeb' if anybody's around."

"But _why_?" Julius pressed.

Why. That was the question that brought fear to his heart. "You've heard of Lord Voldemort," he began.

"You-Know-Who," Tina interjected knowingly.

"He has a lot of bad people working for him. If they knew I was her father, she would be in danger."

Julius wrinkled his brow, not convinced. "Why should he care about you or Jacinta? Do you know him or something? Did you do something to him?"  
Severus continued walking, oblivious to the snarls Jacinta was busy weaving in his hair with her fingers. The twins were only children, he couldn't burden them with the truth, especially as it might mean compromising _their_ safety. They couldn't possibly understand all the implications, ramifications, justifications of this whole sticky situation. Even so, they were involved through _his_ fault. Utilizing Occlumency, he managed to keep most thoughts of them hidden, and while the dark lord had seen their existence during the first Legilimency session, he hoped to diminish any thought that they were important to him, that they could be used against him. He had never allowed Jacinta to be seen at all.

He stopped before he got to the playground, gathering the twins close, and knelt down beside them. In his most serious tone he said, "I know him. I can't tell you any more than that because—well, I just can't. I need you to help me make sure Jacinta is safe. The way to do that is to pretend Jack is her father, I'm Glenna's cousin—which makes you both her cousins, too, I guess. Can you do that?"

Both black heads bobbed up and down soberly. He gave a small grin and stood up. "Go on and play." They raced ahead as he watched them. They'd be eleven in less than a month, too late for this year at Hogwarts. Next year they'd be gone away to school and he'd be alone with mum. It felt strange to think of it.

He carried his daughter over to the baby swings, virtual plastic half-bubbles with holes for the feet to stick out. Lowering her carefully, he tried to seat her. The child had other ideas. She stiffened her legs, screaming piteously when he attempted to pry them apart to slide her legs into the openings. After several unsuccessful tries, he yanked her up onto his shoulder where she promptly calmed down.

"Why are you being so uncooperative?" he growled. Spying the sandbox, he lugged her over and plunked her down, sitting behind her so she wouldn't tip over. He lifted a handful of sand and let it flow out the bottom of his fist, then repeated the action. The girl watched in wonder at the grains falling as the dust blew off in the gentle wind. She squealed and snatched up a handful, then tossed it in the air; it landed for the most part on top of her head, except the bits that flew back into Severus' face and hair.

"Jacinta!" he scolded, which she took as encouragement. Another fistful smacked him full in the face. "Stop it," he hissed, groping for his wand to clear the burning grit from his eyes.

When he could see clearly once more, he groaned. Jacinta had stuffed some of the sand in her mouth and was busy pushing it back out with her tongue, her saliva running in rivulets down her front along with chunks of slobbery sand.

"You are a gross child, you know that?" he said, turning her around so he could help scoop the sand from her mouth with his finger. Having been on the receiving end of a _scourgify_ to the mouth, he refused to use such an awful spell on his daughter.

All at once his left forearm began to throb and burn; his heart skipped a beat. Not now! It was the middle of the day, for crying out loud! "Julius, Justina, come on, we have to go!"

He picked up the baby and started off at a fast walk. The twins trotted over looking puzzled.

"We just got here," said Tina, skipping to keep up with his huge strides.

"Did she poop?" asked Julius. "I'm not changing her."

"I have to go somewhere," Severus said curtly, picking up the pace even more. He'd be late, that was a given, but the later he was, the worse the punishment was likely to be. Damn it all, and to think he'd actually considered himself capable of caring for Jacinta full time! What a joke. The moment the master called, his parenting was put on hold.

They burst into the house, to Eileen's surprise. "Severus, what—"

"Mum, I have to leave. I've no idea when I'll be back. If the time comes for Jacinta to go and I'm not home, send for Glenna to come get her." He thrust the baby into her arms.

"Where are you going? What's going on?" she demanded.

"I can't say," he responded, kissing the baby, then his mother. He ran out onto the back patio where he Disapparated.

A circle of hooded, masked figures stood around Lord Voldemort; one spot remained open. Severus Apparated silently and made to hurry toward them just as the realization hit: he'd not only been in such a rush he forgot his robes and mask, he was still in disguise! _Son of a bitch!_ He uncharmed his appearance a mere second before they began to turn to glance his way. It was too late to go back, he'd have to approach the master as he was.

Head down, biting his lip, he got on his knees and crawled the rest of the way. "My lord," he murmured, kissing the hem of Voldemort's garment.

"You're late, Snape," came the dreaded hiss. Nothing more. Waiting.

_The truth? No. Half-truth?_ "Master, I was in a public Muggle area, I couldn't Apparate away. The moment I could, I answered your summons." Severus kept his head down, wishing desperately he'd remembered his mask to hide any inkling of subterfuge.

"You couldn't be bothered to dress for the occasion?" asked Voldemort sarcastically.

A chuckle somewhere in the circle was cut short by the dark lord's glare.

"Forgive me, master. I was in such a hurry to come, so focused on obeying your call…I forgot."

"Let me help you to remember your place in the future."

Voldemort took out his wand. Severus squeezed his eyes shut and awaited the excruciating pain when he heard the word _crucio_. Instead, he heard another man howl in agony. He jerked his head around to see one of the Death Eaters kicking and flailing on the ground, crying and screaming. He thought it might be the one who'd laughed, though he couldn't be sure.

"Master!" Severus pleaded. "I'll remember!"

The dark lord lifted his wand. As if lecturing a wayward child, he said in a feigned regretful tone, "We are a team, Severus. When one person neglects his duty, other members inevitably suffer as well." This time the _crucio_ landed on another Death Eater.

"My lord," he croaked, unable to take his eyes off the tortured man. It might have been less painful to endure it himself rather than watch others punished in his stead.

Voldemort aimed at another Death Eater seemingly at random and he, too, fell under the Cruciatus. The wizard's eyes gleamed more from the pleasure he attained than from any supposed righteous anger. A glance at Severus' anguished form caused him to smile wickedly. "Have you learned your lesson, Snape?"

"Yes, master," he answered miserably.

Voldemort raised the wand. "What have you learned?"

"To wear the robes you've ordered us to wear," he murmured, aware of all eyes scorching him from every side. "We are a united team, we depend on each other, we must never forget it."

Once more a Death Eater crashed screaming to the ground under the Cruciatus while everyone stared in dismay. This time they didn't understand the motivation for the attack. After a bit Voldemort relented, then addressed Snape again. "What else have you learned, Severus," he cooed, drawing out the 's'.

"To come immediately—but master, it wasn't possible—"

Screeches from directly behind him as the _crucio_ streamed past his cheek to strike yet another. By now, all were concerned, wary of who the next victim might be, and blaming Snape rather than the wand-wielding maniac who laughed at the suffering as he drank in the agony.

Severus would have begged him to stop if he believed it would work. He didn't believe it. The bastard thrived on pleading, on pain, on weakness. If anything, he'd only make it worse. As it was, everyone here either despised him or would soon despise him if the master didn't see fit to put an end to the torture. Then again, that was likely his objective, to see how long Severus could listen to this before he broke; then, when he'd been broken, he'd be tortured himself for breaking. No, he wouldn't do it, he wouldn't play into his hands. He knelt there stoically, trying not to hear the screams.

Two more Death Eaters suffered the _crucio_. Severus felt the scathing hatred of the entire circle of bodies pressing on him. What was he supposed to do? The dark lord was NOT merciful, no matter how many times he told his followers he was. There was no reasoning with the psychopath, there was only waiting.

Silence, save the whimpering and sniffling of the tortured. He felt the eyes of the dark lord on him and he looked up. Voldemort was smiling in his gruesome, thin-lipped way. "Well done, Snape. I thought you'd try some heroics to persuade me to clemency, but you're smarter than that. Now tell me what you've learned."

"You're the master. I follow and obey without question or excuse."

"Much better." He addressed the full circle. "Now we can get on to what I've called you here for. If all goes well, soon we'll have the opportunity to wipe out those damned aurors and the rest of my enemies in one fell swoop." No one dared ask what he meant, and he didn't bother to explain about the hoped-for vampire alliance. When it came to fruition, they'd be informed. Right now all he cared about was making sure they had the tools to destroy the enemy. "I'm going to teach you more dark arts. Those who are already proficient will practice with the newer Death Eaters…"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus got home half an hour before he needed to take Jacinta home, time enough for the pain of the Cruciatus and a multitude of other curses Bellatrix had hurled at him to diminish. Aside from her innate hatred of him, presumably for not being pureblood, the day's demonstration on his account had caused her to be particularly thorough in her jinxing. Had he not blocked most of the hexes, he'd be unable to walk or move at all. Truth be told, he thought he'd actually fared better than Regulus, whose skill didn't come close to rivaling his own. While Lucius had tried to go easy on him, the poor kid had taken quite a beating. Severus shook his head as he flopped on the couch to rest for a few minutes.

When he arrived at Glenna's, he found her waiting impatiently, Jack pacing beside her looking angry and upset.

"Severus, where have you been?" she demanded, taking the sleeping baby from him and cuddling her close.

"What? I'm three minutes late!" he retorted.

"You mean an _hour_ and three minutes," Jack corrected him. He gazed at Jacinta, who still had sand clinging to her scalp and in patches on her blouse. It had merely been smudged in a halfhearted attempt to remove it. "What were you doing, feeding her sand?"

"Yes, I fed her sand, you f-king idiot!" Severus snapped, in no mood for an interrogation. By the looks of the grandfather clock in the hall, he really was late. He knew he'd fallen asleep, but he thought it had been for only a minute.

"Don't use that language in front of her," Glenna warned.

"She's sleeping." _And he is an idiot._ "I'll be on time next time."

Glenna nodded. "Alright." She handed Jacinta to Jack, who carried her out of the room. "You don't look well. Are you okay?"

_I just got tortured by a world-class nutjob, of course I look like hell!_ "I'm fine, thank you for your concern."

Glenna smiled as she touched his arm lightly. "I'll see you."

Severus backed into the fireplace. "Yeah. I'll see you."


	50. Chapter 50Wolfsbane

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty

Philana walked into the back room to fetch a large bottle off the shelf of prepared potions. As always, Severus had his face over a steaming cauldron, concentrating. She smiled to herself and shook her head as she went out front again.

"That's three galleons," she told the customer.

"Three?" shrieked the woman as if she hadn't been fully aware of the price when she placed the order the previous morning. "I could get it for half that in Knockturn Alley."

With a light shrug, Philana scooped the bottle up. "By all means, go to Knockturn Alley. When you grow an extra finger on each hand or develop rat warts, come on back and we'll cure you. I might mention, though, that cures for tainted potions cost considerably more than three galleons." She whirled around dramatically, her long white ponytail swishing behind.

"Rat warts?" the customer repeated with an unmistakable note of dread. "Maybe I'll go ahead and buy it here."

Philana sauntered to the counter, completed the transaction, and waved as the woman left. Sighing, she headed once more into the back room to complete her inventory.

"Rat warts?" Severus said dryly, not looking up, though his lips curled into a smirk.

"It could happen!" she retorted, straightening her shoulders.

"So could a tsunami, but I wouldn't hold my breath," he said, laughing so softly it could hardly be heard. "She's more likely to develop hives…or the occasional speech impediment."

"Which can be very serious," Philana contended. "You know quite well that we sell the finest potions in Britain, Severus. Don't sell yourself short. I happen to know people who've started coming here because of your renown as a potions master."

"I'm flattered. Dubious, but flattered." Still, his smirk had turned into a genuine smile. This wasn't the first time he'd been told business at the shop had increased since he'd begun working there.

"Severus, I need to step out for a little while. When you're done with that brew, let me know so I can go, alright?"

Snape stood up and looked over at her. His hair, wet from steam, clung to his cheeks. "You can go now, if you wish. This needs to simmer for exactly two hours and forty-nine minutes more. I'll hold off on preparing anything complicated until you return."

"You're a doll. I'll be back within the hour." Almost at a skip she took off.

Occupying himself with picking up on the inventory where his employer had left off, Severus dug into the first bin, gauging the freshness of the contents, and how much he needed to order. He liked it here, the coziness of the small room, the pungent odors of various herbs, the very _earthiness_ of it as he raked his hands through grasses to check for mold, or sifted the pollens from their flowers. He was so engrossed he didn't hear the next customer come in, not until the man cleared his throat nervously.

"Hello. Is anyone here?"

"Coming," Snape called out. He dropped a handful of toadstools into their bin, headed into the front of the store, and stopped cold.

Remus Lupin's eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped a little. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here," said Severus, automatically feeling for his wand. Always, always that damned thought in the back of his mind that where you find one Marauder, you find them all. A rapid glimpse around the room assured him they were alone. "What do you want?"

"Your customer relations could use some work," quipped Remus, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in an attempt at a smile.

Severus merely stared back at him with cold, black eyes filled with an ancient hatred.

Remus fumbled with a paper he'd taken from his pocket. He unfolded it and set it on the counter. "I need these ingredients."

Taking two steps forward, Severus snatched up the list. He perused it briefly, eyes narrowing. In a caustic drawl he asked, "Are you planning to brew this yourself?"

"Uh, yes."

Snape snorted. "In case you didn't understand the sign outside, and God knows how many of you Gryffindorks can actually _read_, it says _Potions_ shop. We make potions so 'people' like you don't blow yourselves up trying to follow the recipe."

Remus flushed to the roots of his hair, the other man's use of 'people' not lost on him. "I'll be fine. I had no idea you cared."

"I couldn't care less if you dropped dead on the spot," sneered Severus. "Though I'd prefer not to drag your carcass out myself."

"Could I please have the ingredients I ordered?" repeated Lupin, growing agitated.

"Now, now, don't go all werewolf on me," said Snape, looking down at the list again. "Looks like you're planning to make an anti-changing spell. Let me save you some time, money, and effort: they don't work."

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me this is a new potion, just invented. It allows me—werewolves—to maintain their cognizance during the full moon," explained Remus, all the while wondering why he was bothering to explain anything to _Snape_, of all people. As if he cared, and why should he after the hell they'd put him through in school?

Surprisingly, Snape seemed more than interested, he appeared…eager? "Do you have this formula with you?"

"Yes," Remus answered reluctantly. If he surrendered it, who's to say Snape wouldn't destroy it out of spite?

"Well, let me see it!" demanded the other impatiently.

Remus reached into his pocket again and handed over a folded parchment. Severus read it over quickly once, then began again, studying it carefully, every so often uttering a "hmm". A few times he nodded to himself, tapping his finger on an ingredient or instruction as if verifying something he'd believed or hypothesized himself.

At last he said, "Come back on the late afternoon of the full moon. I'll have it ready. I'd do it now, but it can rest no more than four hours."

Startled and wary, Remus shook his head. "How can I trust you to brew it right? You hate me!"

"Yes, well, I value my reputation more than I despise you," drawled Severus. "It will be done precisely according to directions. Whether it works is not my concern."

The ball was in Remus' court. Dare he trust a man who loathed him to the very marrow of his bones? Then again, his true malice extended to Sirius and James; Remus had always been an afterthought. And Snape was probably the most talented potions master Hogwarts had ever produced. Sure, James went on about Lily, but she hadn't made a potion since they'd left school, and Snape…well, this was his job! Could Remus honestly say that if he attempted the potion himself he'd be successful? His Potions grades had never been Outstanding.

"I'm waiting," said Severus, consciously resisting the urge to tap his foot.

"Alright, make it. I'll be back to pick it up."

Severus only nodded in acknowledgement. The minute Lupin was gone, he carried the papers into the back room, devouring them with his eyes. _Wolfsbane_. Unoriginal name, but a new, stimulating challenge just the same! He couldn't wait until the day of the full moon so he could try it out. As much as he never wanted to see Lupin again, he hoped the young man would come by to let him know if it worked.

He dug a parchment from a side drawer, along with quill and ink, and began to painstakingly copy the formula, word for word.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Malfoy, get your hand off me before I hex you into next week," growled Bellatrix. Out of nowhere her wand had appeared in her hand, pointed at Lucius' temple.

Lucius attempted to release her at the same time he snapped, "My wife requested that I bring you to dinner tonight. Why are you being so obstinate?" He yanked at his hand, which refused to budge, his pinkie wedding ring caught on the lace of her upper sleeve. A final savage jerk ripped him free, along with half her sleeve. His eyes widened in consternation.

"Did she tell you to rip off my clothes and drag me there?" challenged the woman, lowering her wand and tucking it into a hidden pocket of her skimpy skirt, ignoring the material flapping down onto her breast, exposing one shoulder.

Lucius tugged the material off his hand, letting it fall to the floor. "I asked you nicely first. I was only leading you to the door like a gentleman," he responded, averting his face, mortified at what he'd done.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Your father would be so proud." A wicked smile crept over her lovely features, marring them. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Abraxas in a long time—"

"It's Mr. Malfoy to you," Lucius interrupted.

"—and I'll bet he'd love to hear how his obnoxious progeny behaves when he's away from home. Maybe if I'm lucky he'll pound some manners into you." A little giggle escaped.

"Dream on, troll maiden," he muttered, throwing his hands up. "Fine, stay here, I don't care. I'll tell Narcissa you're ill, which is technically true since you're a certifiable lunatic!"

"Oh, no," she said, still grinning broadly. "I'll be there. Bye, Lucy-Wucy." She wiggled her fingers in a wave. "As soon as I transfigure myself something to wear, I'll meet you there." With that she turned and strutted out, her spiky heels clicking along on the stone floor of the castle.

"Why can't you be like Narcissa?" Lucius lamented to no one, then smugly noted to himself that Narcissa was uniquely perfect, unlike her beastly sister. He turned to go before the dark lord might encounter him and—Heaven forbid—invite himself to the occasion. He met Rodolphus coming in, limping ever so slightly.

"Hey, Lucius! Why are you here? Does the master have a mission?"

"No, I came to see Bella. You and she are invited tonight for dinner. She's getting ready now." His eyes drifted down to the werewolf-mangled ankle, covered by Rodolphus' pantleg. "Good to see you up and about. I thought for a while you might lose that foot."

"Me, too," admitted Rodolphus, flexing the ankle. "Your dad did an amazing job."

Lucius nodded, smiling wryly. "He's had plenty of practice with me and Severus, though I can't say he enjoys fixing us up all the time. We'll see you in bit." He walked out and Disapparated. He needed to get ready himself.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius abhorred dinner parties almost as much as he detested full blown parties. Being a Malfoy—being proper and articulate and flawless at all times—was wearing enough without having people around to gauge any lapse in perfection. At least today it was only family, he could relax a little. He sipped at a goblet of wine as he mingled with the relatively few guests: Severus, Druella, Orion and his wife and son, and Rodolphus…and Bellatrix. It surprised him how attractive she looked in her transfigured indigo gown, her hair done up. The witch had a knack for being able to pretend she was a normal lady when she wanted to.

When had he started hating Bella? He laughed inwardly, wondering when he _hadn't_ hated Bella. As children, she'd been a bully due to her age and larger size, though mostly she'd left him alone so she could flirt with his older brother, who'd had no interest whatsoever in the younger brat. He shuddered to think that if his brother had lived, the poor boy might have been forced to marry Bella! At Hogwarts she'd been a few years ahead of Lucius, so they rarely saw each other. Those were good times.

"What are you grinning about?" asked Severus, following Lucius' line of sight over to Bella.

"Just remembering old times."

"Was she nicer then?" asked Severus doubtfully.

Lucius laughed out loud, drawing the attention of the entire room. "No, she was a wretched child, too. I thought perhaps when she married Rodolphus she'd change. I was obviously wrong."

"Son," came the voice from behind him.

He whirled around. "Yes, sir?"

"Bellatrix spun me an interesting tale. She claims you made a pass at her and ripped her blouse." Abraxas took a swallow of firewhiskey, his eyes steady on his son. "Any comment?"

_Aside from the fact that she's a lying slut?_ He truly didn't appreciate the horrified, disgusted looks coming his way from Severus, nor the accusing ones from his father. "It was an accident."

"And exactly how do you accidentally rip a lady's blouse?"

"Lady?" he snorted, before realizing he'd said it out loud. Abraxas' glare held him glued to the spot. "She wasn't cooperating. I took her by the shoulder to escort her here and my ring got caught in the lace of her blouse. I couldn't get it free and…it ripped. It was a rag anyway," he finished sullenly.

"Why were you endeavoring to force her along?" Abraxas queried smoothly. "Did I raise my son to push around the fairer sex? No, I did not," he answered himself.

"It wasn't like that," Lucius protested, though in retrospect he thought he should have let it go when she appeared unwilling. "It's just that this is so important to Narcissa, she wanted her sister here… I'll apologize, Father."

"Good. You can do that right after the announcement." He gestured toward Narcissa, who was beaming in their direction.

Lucius strode over to his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist. "May I have your attention, please?" The room quieted quickly. "Before we sit down to supper, Narcissa and I have an important announcement. Honey?"

Narcissa's smile encompassed her whole face, shining upon the guests waiting expectantly. Tempting as it had been, they'd managed not to tell anyone the news yet. "Mother, my wonderful family and friends, Lucius and I called you here to share in our joy. We're going to have a baby—I'm pregnant!"

"Oh, Narcissa!" cried Druella, running forward to hug her daughter, tears running down both their faces.

Soon the entire company surrounded the couple, hugging and kissing Narcissa, shaking Lucius' hand, everyone truly happy for them. Not the least of those excited for them was Severus, who waited until the rest had cleared off a bit before extending congratulations. It had worked, his potion had worked! If he never made another brew that worked, he'd always be proud and grateful for this one.

Lucius quieted the small crowd once more with a simple, "Attention, please! My friends, we cannot neglect to give credit for this miracle to my dear friend Severus, who created the potion that Narcissa has been taking for infertility. Severus, we owe you an enormous debt. Thank you." He raised his glass; all the guests raised theirs as well, and Severus blushed while for the first time in his life a toast was drunk in his honor.

Narcissa pulled him forward to kiss his cheek. "Thank you so much, Severus," she whispered in his ear.

"You're very welcome," he said softly, embarrassed and elated by the attention.

"You will, of course, be the baby's godfather," Lucius chimed in.

Stunned, Severus gaped at them. "When I gave you the potion and said to make me godfather, I didn't believe you took me at my word. You can choose whoever you want," he gushed, embarrassed again, this time feeling like a fool.

"We talked it over. We want you," Narcissa insisted. Lucius nodded along.

Severus' face erupted in a huge grin. "Okay. Thanks, I'm really honored."

Regulus came strolling up and nudged Severus in the side. "Congratulations, you get to be godfather!" He smirked and looked over at the couple. "Which means you need to name the kid after _me_. It's only fair, I'm your favorite cousin."

"What if it's a girl?" asked Lucius dryly.

"Um…Regula?" he said hopefully, raising his eyebrows and bobbing his head.

"Nice try, cousin," Narcissa smiled, patting his hair as if he were ten. "We haven't even thought of names yet. But you are my favorite cousin." She clutched him in a hard embrace. "I hope you always stay this sweet."

From the dining area a bell rang to announce dinner was served, and they all moved along. Abraxas hung back, taking hold of Severus' arm. When the others had gone, he said, "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable in front of everybody, Severus. I can't express how much it means to me what you've done for Lucius and Narcissa. And for myself, it's my grandchild. If you need or want anything—anything at all—let me know and it's yours."

"Mr. Malfoy, I didn't do it because I wanted something. I did it because Lucius is my friend," replied Severus.

"I know that. I've come to see why Lucius considers you his closest, truest friend. But you deserve a reward, I only wish you'd let me."

"You've already done so much. You helped me get visitation of my daughter, which means the world to me." He paused, debating in his mind whether to go on, then plunging ahead in a subdued voice. "Help me watch over Jacinta and my brother and sister. When my mother is gone, it'll be a lot harder." He clenched his jaw, the very notion of her passing tearing at him.

Abraxas laid a hand on his shoulder, then unexpectedly pulled him into an embrace. After a few moments he moved back. "I'd be privileged to help your family in any way I can. Come on, this is a celebration. Let's go eat."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Yadiro?" Mateo wandered through the main room and ducked his head into the sitting room. Not there. He ambled on down to the vampire's bedroom, to find him sitting at a small table poring over a stack of old papers by candlelight. "Diro, I think everyone who's coming is here."

Buitrago turned his head to look at the younger vampire. "How many?"

"Ninety or so."

The leader nodded to himself, pleased. It was a phenomenal turnout, he hadn't really anticipated so many, and these would carry word back to those few remaining in and around the villages and cities deemed part of his territory.

"You did a good job of getting them here, Mateo," said Yadiro, rising from his chair. "I commend you."

"Thank you," his friend answered, feeling somewhat strange. Yadiro wasn't one for complimenting; praise wasn't often found on his lips.

Mateo followed him out and through the main room, up the stone staircase, and into the cool night air. In silence they covered the distance through the woods and up to the old demolished manor where _sangristas_, male and female, sat or stood all over and around the rubble waiting for the leader to appear. As with Yadiro and Mateo, physical ages ranged greatly from mere teenagers to those in their fifties, the bulk of them aged between twenty and forty. Clothing and hair styles, too, ran the gamut from seventeenth century to modern times, depending on the individual vampire's preference more than the time period into which he or she had been born.

One would think that with the number of those gathered, the noise level would be significantly increased, unless one considered that survival often entailed stealth…silence. It was, in fact, almost eerily quiet. When they noticed Buitrago approaching, all eyes turned his way, glowing markedly in the moonlight.

Buitrago gave a light push off from the earth, bounding upward five meters to land lightly atop one of the brick chimneys, the only part of the estate to remain standing. His cult followed his movement with their eyes, turning to face him. "My friends, thank you for coming. I'll get right to the point. As you've been told, we _sangristas_ have been presented with an offer, and because the circumstances are unprecedented I've decided to call for a vote rather than make the ruling myself. Once this collective decision has been reached, all will adhere to it. I will tolerate no violation of it."

He motioned Mateo over, and the younger vampire flew over to land at the base of the chimney, then he continued. "I was approached by an extremely powerful dark wizard named Lord Voldemort." There were a few stirs of recognition. "He is gathering forces in Britain—men, giants, whoever he can get—with plans to overthrow their Ministry of Magic. In doing so, he would wrench control of the wizarding world into his own hands. The non-wizard population would be subjugated to the wizards."

"How does this affect us?" asked a young woman with spiked purple hair.

"Lord Voldemort intends to increase his boundaries; once he has Britain, he'll try to capture the rest of Europe piece by piece. If he's successful in conquering Britain, he'll be in Spain in short order. To get to the crux of the matter, Lord Voldemort has asked me to form an alliance with him, to help him overthrow Britain's Ministry."

"Why would you help him if he plans to take us over next?" said a man from the middle of the crowd. Numerous vampires voiced similar concern.

"If we aid him, he promises to make our lives easier, safer, to prohibit people from slaying us. He says we'll have access to all the human blood we want, as long as we don't create more _sangristas_."

"Can he deliver on his promises?" interjected a woman in a long fancy dress, her hair in ringlets around her ghostly face.

"I don't know," admitted Yadiro with a shrug. "It seems he expects us to take a lot on faith. Mateo tells me there exists in Britain a resistance against Lord Voldemort, yet the only wizard powerful enough to conquer him refuses to do battle. I fear that regardless of any resistance, Voldemort may eventually prevail, and if we shun an alliance with him now, he'll turn his minions on us later."

"Then you've already decided," said a man near the front of the assembly. "You wish us to help him."

"No, I don't particularly wish to help him. A human, especially a wizard, with unlimited power can be a precious ally or a terrorizing foe." He smiled down at Mateo, who stood motionless below. "Mateo believes that if Voldemort threatens us, we are more than capable of defeating his army, especially if we join forces with other cults in Portugal and France. Nevertheless, I wish you to discuss it among yourselves. I'll return shortly for your response. Mateo will stay here to answer any questions you may have."

"Why don't you stay, Yadiro?" asked the purple haired woman.

"My presence acts as a hindrance to debate. You see me as the decision maker; tonight I am the decision keeper." Placing a hand to his chest, he bowed to the group, then flew straight up into the air and out of sight.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Yadiro stood once more atop the chimney. The vote was taken, the verdict rendered. "So be it. The cult has spoken."

Once again the man in front raised his voice. "What happens if a _sangrista_ goes against this ruling? Don't we have the right to follow our own beliefs?"

Yadiro's dark eyes seemed to pierce right through him. "Any action taken by one member of our community has repercussions felt by all." He reached down into the chimney hole and pulled out a bat that squeaked and shrieked at him. "If I find any members of my cult betraying us, causing opinion to turn against us…" In one swift motion he bared his fangs and bit the head off the bat. Its limp body hung in his hand as he spat the head at the man, then tipped his face back and sucked the blood from the tiny animal. He tossed the carcass aside. "Their fate will be less pleasant."


	51. Chapter 51

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-One

From across the woods she smelled him, the scent of another vampire, so unlike that of a human. Tonia, her long, wavy brown tresses bouncing down her back, ran toward him in the dark with the agility and speed of a cheetah, the silence of a specter. When she was a mere arm's length away, Mateo spun around, ducked, and snatched her wrists, bringing her to a sharp halt.

His face broke into a smile, his blue eyes peering into her sultry brown, and she began to laugh. Leaning in, she kissed him on the mouth, then shoved away and slapped him petulantly.

"How did you know I was there?" she demanded, pouting.

"The same way you'd know if I were attacking you," he answered plainly. "I smelled you; besides, a deaf man could've heard you rampaging through the forest." They both chortled at that. "Is there some reason beyond my irresistible charisma that you've tracked me out here?"

"Yadiro has chosen me to go with him to Britain. We're to see this Lord Voldemort."

Mateo gave a questioning shrug and shake of his head. "So?"

"So nobody knows where he is," she explained, clasping his hand in hers, interweaving their fingers. "The wizard who came here with him, Lucius Malfoy—Yadiro says you'd know how to find him, and he'd lead us to Voldemort."

He closed his eyes and brought their intertwined hands up to his cheek, rubbing the soft skin of her hand against his face. As long as this Malfoy was the heir—and he had no idea whether he was or not—he could trace him to Malfoy Manor, where the heir always lived. Everyone who'd spent any time in Britain knew that. And it wouldn't be the first time he'd made an appearance at the mansion… "I can take you to the estate, Tonia, but we don't know that he lives there."

"He was dressed very fine, I hear," she replied as she cuddled close to him. "He's got to be related, so even if he doesn't live there, they'd know him and where to find him, right?"

"I suppose. When are you—we—leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Esteban and Iselda are coming, too."

Mateo made a soft noise in the back of his throat to indicate he'd heard her. They were good choices, not surprisingly; both intelligent, prone to being reserved, vigilant. Yadiro would make sure to take only enough _sangristas_ to watch each other's backs without appearing too threatening. Their leader was like that, always protective of his own, yet sensitive to what went on around him.

"Tell him I'll be ready," Mateo said finally.

"Alright." She made no move to go. Instead she let her eyes drift over his lithe form, involuntarily licking her lips. Since coming to live on the estate ten years ago, she'd made many good friends, Mateo among them. More than that, in the past year she'd found herself pulled to him like never before to a _sangrista_; he felt the same, she could tell. He didn't say it, but she knew by his gentle caress, by the way his eyes softened when he looked at her, yet he held back, treating her more chastely than any man or vampire ever had. She thought it both perplexing and endearing. She wouldn't rush this, Mateo wasn't just another fling to use for her pleasure and then disappear.

"Tonia, I'm on watch duty," he murmured as her hands, with a mind of their own, began to explore his body.

Shocked out of her musings, she instantly removed her hands and took a step back. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Mateo flashed her a tiny smirk. "You can't be blamed if I'm too alluring." He chuckled softly.

Tonia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, be ready first thing tomorrow evening. It's a long trip."

"I think I'll manage," he responded dryly. Tilting her chin up, he placed a brief but sensuous kiss on those superb lips. "You'd better go before I lose control and Yadiro pounds me to mush for neglecting my duty."

"In a couple of hours your replacement will show up," she whispered. "Come find me." In a matter of a single second she'd shot out of view.

"I will," he answered into the night.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The five of them landed in an orchard a short distance from Malfoy Manor, all except Mateo seemingly curious as they glanced around and gawked at the huge mansion. Buitrago's practiced eye gauged the grand place as he mentally calculated the kind of wealth this family must possess.

"You didn't tell me it was this grandiose," said Buitrago in a slightly admonishing tone. "If I weren't dead and had no use for it, I might be jealous."

Mateo grinned over at him. "Although I didn't have the opportunity to see your mansion before it was torched, I get the impression it was comparable. And anyway, I haven't been inside. It could be a dump."

Yadiro snorted out a hard laugh at the very notion. "Yes, people like to spend a fortune to upkeep the _outside_ of their house but not the _inside_. Come on, let's get this done."

He pushed off, flying low over the ground until he reached the front of the manor, Mateo right behind him. Together they touched down and walked up the steps onto the porch. Before they could knock, a house elf opened the door.

"May I help you?" squeaked Sisidy.

"Is there a Lucius Malfoy here?" asked Yadiro in his precise clip.

"Yes. Who is you?"

"Yadiro Buitrago. This is Mateo." He gestured to his right where the other vampire stood silently.

"You waiting here," she said, shutting the door in their faces.

"What is _that_?" asked Buitrago, pointing to approximately where Sisidy had been.

"A house elf. Lots of upper class wizarding families have them," said Mateo. "They're servants, but they have magic, too."

"Interesting."

A moment later the door was wrenched open again, this time with Lucius framed there looking disconcerted and confused. "Mr. Buitrago." He bowed to the vampire. "I didn't expect you here." Rather than invite them in, he came out onto the porch and closed the door.

"Forgive the intrusion," answered Yadiro, not entirely envisioning a different reaction. When _he_ was human, if vampires had come to his door, he wouldn't have been in a rush to invite them in, either. "We have reached a decision. Your master wishes to know it."

Lucius hesitated. He could listen to the verdict, then relay it to Lord Voldemort and, depending on the decision, receive accolades or punishment. Or he might receive punishment simply for not bringing them to the dark lord to begin with. It was a touchy situation, one he wished he'd never been drawn into.

"I can Apparate you to Lord Voldemort," he said, selecting the best option. "You may speak to him yourselves."

"Can you Apparate all of us?" asked Mateo dubiously.

"There are only two—" His voice trailed off as the other three slinked out of the shadows. He waited; when no more appeared, he said, "No, probably not all of you, not at once."

"We will fly," Buitrago announced.

"I can't fly, and you can't follow me when I Apparate," Lucius tried to explain calmly.

"We'll fly _you_," Mateo qualified. "Yadiro and I can hold you up, you tell us where to go."

"You'd drop me!" he exclaimed, aghast.

Yadiro shook his head lightly, took hold under Lucius' arms, and lifted him without difficulty off the porch like a small child. "We are very strong. We will not drop you."

"Put me down, please." Buitrago placed the squirming man's feet solidly on the wood of the porch. Indignant, Lucius smoothed his robes, then asserted, "I'll fly on my broom, you can follow me."

The others nodded agreeably. Lucius went back inside to inform his wife that he 'needed to leave', something she no longer questioned. He gathered his robes, mask, and broom and met the vampires under the cover of the large tree in the front yard where his childhood swing hung forlornly.

A good, long while later, the freezing Lucius caught sight of the falling apart castle, as well as numerous tiny shapes in the courtyard throwing hexes. _Great, we come when the dark lord has them training to kill._ He touched down at a point where they were not yet detectable, shivering as he cast a warming spell on himself. He wished he'd worn his heavy traveling cloak, this early October night air was murder!

"I'll go inform Lord Voldemort you're here," he said, leaving the broom behind as he donned the robes, then Apparated the rest of the way. Even though the vampires were rather far off, he got the impression they could see him crawl up to his master to kiss his garment; the idea made him flush behind his mask. "My lord, I must speak with you. Alone."

Voldemort called over Bellatrix to monitor the practicing of the newest and youngest Death Eaters, then walked into the castle with Lucius right behind him. When they were definitely alone, he turned on Malfoy. "What is it, Lucius?"

"The vampires showed up at my estate, master. They've reached a decision."

"Well?" Voldemort seemed almost… excited.

"They're here to talk to you." Lucius pointed out in the direction where he'd left them. "I thought it only proper you hear the news first."

"Of course," the dark lord concurred, his mind whirling with possibilities. He felt almost giddy. "Bring them."

Lucius bowed low, hurried out, and Apparated back to the waiting group. "He's ready for you. If I may?" Taking hold of Mateo in one hand and Yadiro in the other, he whisked them off to the castle, startling the Death Eaters to see him arriving with two strangers who looked suspiciously pale, one of whom was dressed like a throwback to an earlier century. Without a word even to the gaping Bella, he led them inside. "My lord, Mr. Buitrago."

"You may go, Lucius," said the dark lord from his throne, dismissing him with an imperious wave of his hand.

"Yes, my lord." He bowed again and backed out, somewhat miffed that he'd been included in the entire affair right up until the end. Nonetheless, he dared not protest, and he'd find out soon enough what their response had been.

On the way out he noticed Bellatrix, who seemed to be standing rather close to the entrance, considering her charges were ten meters off hurling wild shots at one another. When they stopped firing and all stared up in wonder at three silhouettes gliding through the sky, Bella's attention wavered. In a heartbeat her wand aimed up.

"No!" Lucius barked, grabbing her arm.

"They're vampires!" she screeched.

"They're with the two I took inside."

The three _sangristas_ landed soundlessly at the edge of the field and strode along past the dueling Death Eaters, whose mouths literally hung open as they watched the two women sidling by; without even trying it seemed they'd ensnared the young men with their purported powers of seduction. Certainly they'd not had the chance to utilize hypnosis.

"Get back to practicing!" Bella shouted, throwing a _crucio_ at the nearest Death Eater, who crumbled to the earth screaming.

Taking in the scene without emotion, the vampires reached the entrance and halted, then fanned out, backs to the wall like sentries. Lucius nodded in parting as he walked by, calling his broom with an _accio_, and Disapparated.

The minutes ticked by in slow motion. By the time Voldemort finally came walking out sandwiched between the vampires, Bella had given up all pretense of training. The young men were left to their own devices as she stood glowering at the three flanking the doorway. When her master came into view, she let out a breath of relief mingled with irritation. Why did Lucius bloody Malfoy know what was going on and _she_ didn't? She edged a tiny bit closer.

"Mr. Buitrago, I regret the fact that your cult have chosen not to align themselves with me and that I am not able to sway you," Voldemort was saying in a sickeningly silky voice.

Bella's eyes popped halfway out of her skull. The master had asked for an alliance with _vampires_? Was he crazy? She kicked herself in the shin for even allowing such a despicable thought to cross her mind. The dark lord knew what he was doing, he was always right!

"Your cult is the most powerful and influential in Europe. If you change your mind, my offer stands."

Yadiro inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I will remember that. Until such time, perhaps you would be content with a gift. You mentioned at my estate that you would like to fly. You have magic; if it is possible, I will teach you."

Voldemort's eyes lit up for the briefest second. "I look forward to it."

"I will be in touch," said Buitrago, this time with one of his full bows, hand on his chest. He made a motion with his hand and all five vampires shot into the air at once, disappearing into the night.

"My lord," Bella cried, dashing to his side. "What did they want?"

The dark lord ignored her. They had _refused_ him! Those blood-sucking bastards had refused him as if he weren't the most powerful wizard on the planet! The fury he'd kept in check came boiling to the surface in a wave of wrath; he whipped out his wand and threw a _crucio_ at a Death Eater. He continued hexing and cursing until every one of the Death Eaters except Bella, who cringed at his feet, lay either unconscious or moaning in agony, and still he wasn't satisfied.

He'd counted on the vampires to make the takeover easy and quick! And to top it off, he didn't dare wreak vengeance on Buitrago or his cult, not when he fully understood how effortlessly they could decimate his Death Eaters. Taken unawares, seduced or hypnotized, they'd be sitting ducks for irate vampires. In battle, even if all of his followers knew the spell to kill them, the damnable vampires were so fast and agile it was unlikely many would be struck. They would disarm his men and slaughter them, leaving him no army at all, and they wouldn't rest until every one was dead. Then they'd come en masse for him…

He threw several more curses at the prone bodies before storming back into the castle to work on a new plan, an _inferior_ plan. Bellatrix, not moving a muscle until he'd gone, stood up slowly. She cast a glance at the field where the Death Eaters were finally getting to their feet; at least none of them had been killed. She ordered them to leave, then vanished herself. This might be a good time to visit her mother, and maybe Rodolphus…and maybe Cissy.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Oh, it just gets better and better_, Severus moaned to himself. Out front, speaking to Philana, was that dreaded redhead. Any minute Philana would be calling him to—

"Severus! You have a visitor!"

"I'm busy!" he hollered back, ducking behind a shelf laden with assorted jars. In his rush he nearly tripped over a barrel of dried newts, kicking it and sending it sailing across the floor where it collided loudly with a far wall.

Philana came scurrying back to see what the commotion was, to find her employee crouched down, hiding behind a storage shelf. "Severus, what are you doing?"

"Looking for…" He furiously scanned the shelf for anything remotely plausible. "…dragon scales. And here they are." He triumphantly held up a heavy jar full of shiny, colorful scales.

"May I ask why? None of the potions you're working on require dragon scales."

"Ah...it's…an experiment," he said lamely, berating himself for the ridiculous excuse that a blind person could see through.

"Go out there. She's waiting for you," the woman urged.

"I don't want to see her," admitted the other. "All we do is argue."

"She said something about 'Lupin'. What's that?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, though he grudgingly slid the jar back onto the shelf. Gathering his defenses, he got up and tramped out into the front of the shop. "Lily."

"Hello, Severus. I won't take much time, I know you're working." She looked around and twisted the wedding band on her finger nervously as if it bothered her to be here. "James told me that Remus found a new potion for his—condition—and that it worked very well. I was wondering if you made it for him."

In a deadpan voice Severus answered, "What if I did?"

"If you did, thank you." She gave a tiny smile.

"I do what I'm paid to do."

Lily took a step forward then halted. "It was kind of you, Severus."

He raised his eyebrows mockingly, sneering ever so slightly. "I was of the opinion that you believed me incapable of kindness. I'm evil, remember?"

"You know that isn't true. If you wanted to be evil or cruel, you could've messed it up so Remus would think it was worthless like all the others he's tried."

_Is that a suggestion for next time?_ "Why is it you'd even contemplate that I'd do such a thing, Lily? I'm not _Potter_," he spat bitterly.

"Please, Severus, I didn't come to argue. I only wanted to thank you." She stared at his cold, blank face, then turned to the door. "Good-bye."

"You're welcome," he said quietly.

She turned partway around and gave a smile, nodded, and walked out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was two days before Halloween, almost a month since Lucius had taken the vampires to Lord Voldemort. He hadn't heard a word about it, which was—well, he didn't know whether it was good or bad. The dark lord might be sulking and brooding, thinking up twisted plots of revenge, or he might be gloating at his own brilliance. No, it was bad news, it had to be. If the master wanted to gloat, he'd do so in front of his minions so _they_ could fawn over his brilliance. _Damn it!_

As if on cue his left forearm began to throb. He rolled over to Narcissa, who lay sprawled out, sound asleep. He couldn't bear to wake her, she was so tired all the time anymore. Gently he planted a kiss on her lips, then scooted over to his side of the bed and got up, dressing rapidly.

He was one of the first to arrive, and the Apparations continued steadily, some almost silently, others with a distinct 'pop', until a mass of forty were assembled in a circle waiting for their master. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them all together; usually the dark lord summoned only a specific person or group. He noted with a hint of relief that Severus had taken his spot on time and Regulus, for once, must have been too sleepy to goof off.

Voldemort came out with a sour look on his pallid, taut face, making Lucius wince. It didn't bode well. If after a month of stewing the master was still upset, he might inflict any manner of evil upon his followers. When they began to approach for the typical groveling and the dark lord bellowed them away, Lucius was sure they were in for it.

The Death Eaters stood warily in their places, each one hoping he—or she—wouldn't be the one singled out for random punishment. Voldemort hissed at them to remove their masks, presumably so he could observe their faces for traces of fear or weakness, and in a flurry of movement the masks were gone.

"Because the efforts of my _devoted followers_ have produced little in the way of toppling the Ministry, I've been reduced to procuring allies wherever I can." His slits of red glowered around the circle in a slow arc. They came to rest on Rookwood, who dropped his gaze and shuffled his feet anxiously. Ever so gradually they moved on to Yaxley, who stared almost brazenly back at him. A _crucio_ that left him sobbing on the ground taught him to heed his manners. When his gaze fell on Macnair, the man mumbled something to the effect that he was trying to honor the master by enlisting the giants. Voldemort passed him over.

"Lucius," came the terror-inspiring snake-like hiss. "Since the successful raid against the Order of the Phoenix a year ago, what have you done to bring down the Ministry?"

"I accompanied you—"

"Enough!" growled the dark lord, letting Lucius understand this was not to be fodder for discussion. Lord Voldemort had failed in his attempt and _no one_ was to know.

"My lord, I have plans to revisit Hogwarts. Their Halloween Ball is in two days, perhaps I can learn more." _Keep your face blank, Malfoy._ In truth he'd made no such plan; now he'd better get off his ass and work on it!

Voldemort turned away as if he hadn't heard. "I have made a new alliance to aid us in destroying our enemies. They are strong, fast, vicious, and merciless. I have brought their leader here."

Had the vampires agreed after all? Then why wasn't the master acting more pleased? Lucius leaned forward ever so slightly, expecting to see Buitrago come strolling out of the castle. What he saw made him sick to his stomach.

From the castle came the very antithesis of the well groomed, polished Buitrago. A hulking figure in an ill-fitting Death Eater robe joined Voldemort in the circle. Even from Lucius' spot he could smell its foul body odor as he took in the mane of filthy gray hair and yellow fingernails. He wrinkled his nose as much in disgust as from enduring the stench.

"This is Fenrir Greyback, the leader of a large pack of werewolves," said Voldemort.

"Werewolf!" exclaimed Bellatrix, echoing Lucius' sentiment. "My lord, his kind butchered my father!"

"Silence, Bellatrix," cautioned Lord Voldemort. "You wouldn't question your master's decision, would you?"

"No, my lord," she choked out. For the first time Lucius could remember, she made no move to be close to the master.

Greyback drew back his lips, revealing dirty pointed teeth.

It was with obvious difficulty Bella controlled her wand hand that itched to hex the hideous man-creature into oblivion.

"On another topic, I require a house elf," said Voldemort, startling the vast majority at the radical change of subject matter. Once again his eyes roamed around the circle. Many of his Death Eaters owned house elves.

In the space of only a few seconds, Lucius debated furiously. He would be expected to offer one, of that he was certain. If he offered Sisidy, his favorite and a wonderful, competent servant, what if something happened to her? He had no idea what the dark lord had planned for the elf. If he gave up Dobby, the freakish little puke would undoubtedly screw up or otherwise do something to make Lucius look bad. What to do?

"I have one, master!" Regulus piped up. "Kreacher will do whatever you demand."

For a split second Lucius wondered about Regulus' sanity. But then again, the boy hadn't been around Lord Voldemort as long as he had, he might not suspect any harm could come to his elf.

"Excellent, Black. Bring him by next week."

"Yes, my lord, it's my pleasure," gushed the youth.

With a dismissive wave, the dark lord whirled around and stormed back into the castle, leaving a group of very disgruntled followers behind.


	52. Chapter 52

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Two

"Lucius, you're home early," observed Narcissa as her husband grumped his way across their bedroom, kicking off his boots and flinging his dress robes on the floor as he went.

"Dumbledore made me leave," he seethed, throwing himself on the bed like a petulant child. "He said the Halloween Ball isn't the time to be reviewing the school, and I should notify him in advance before I come!"

"Well, I suppose he wanted to have a good time, not spend his evening poring over books—"

"I only asked to interview students and maybe that Hagrid," Lucius interrupted, pouting. "I need information to give the dark lord."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out. I'm sure you'll find another opportunity. You _are_ Lucius Malfoy," his wife soothed. She sat next to him and cupped his cheek in her hand.

"I told the dark lord I was going, he'll...well, he may not expect anything, but if I give him _something_ it might brighten his foul mood," Lucius said, feeling the tension releasing at her touch. She was right, he could simply schedule an appointment in the coming weeks, or he could always hope the master forgot all about it, he hadn't seemed to be really listening. Fat chance. True, he had no news, but maybe there was no news to have.

He reached up to pull her down so she was pressed against him, then he nudged at her rear, trying to raise her up so she'd be sitting on top of him. "Why is it you always make me feel better? You're like—magic!"

They both laughed. Narcissa lay down beside him, one arm draped over his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. "You do the same for me," she admitted. "Being in your arms makes me feel safe. When I'm sick, you're my medicine. I love you so much."

"Not as much as I love you," he replied, tightening his hold.

It was in this position they cuddled until they both drifted off into a blissful sleep.

Lucius awoke in the morning to the sound of his wife retching in the bathroom. Not knowing whether he should join her, he tentatively poked his head in, then came over to her, gently supporting her as he held her hair back from her face. When she'd spewed what little contents remained in her stomach overnight, followed by gut-wrenching spasms to vomit out what didn't exist, she finally stood up. Tears ran from her eyes, her pale jaw trembled. Lucius guided her to the sink to wash out her mouth and rinse herself off, all the while fighting the gag reflex himself.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Narcissa nodded. "It's better now."

"I'm glad I'm your medicine," he cooed, clasping her to his bare chest. Until this minute he hadn't realized how chilly he was in only his green silk boxers. He snuggled in closer, feeding off her warmth.

"Get off!" she protested, pushing him away. At his hurt expression, she explained, "I'm too hot a lot now, Lucius, it's not you."

"I understand. Is there anything I can do, anything you need?"

At first it seemed she intended to shake her head, then she tilted it slightly to the side. "Well, the past few days I can't get this thought out of my mind. I have this craving…"

"Yes?" he prompted, plucking his bathrobe from a hook and shimmying into it. "Whatever it is, I'll see that you get it."

"Do you remember those chocolate wafer things with the sweet cream in the middle that you told me about, the ones Lord Voldemort made you eat? I think you called them 'Oreos'."

"Yes," he repeated slowly, not at all liking the direction this conversation appeared to be headed in.

"I want them."

Lucius gave a sick grin. "They honestly weren't that good, honey."

"You said you liked it!"

"It was a test, the dark lord made me—"

"_I want them!_" She burst into tears and ran from the room.

He followed her out to where she lay on the bed sobbing. He'd suffered his father's wrath untold times over the years; he'd endured torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort. This was much worse: she was _crying_. It tore his heart out.

"Narcissa, there are plenty of respectable foods I could buy for you—"

"You said you'd give me whatever I want!" she shrieked accusingly. "You're a liar!"

"Sweetheart, you're being unreasonable," he responded, starting to rub her back and getting swatted for his trouble. He hadn't realized how strong she was. He cradled his throbbing hand against his chest. "I'll go see if breakfast is ready." In a flash he'd dressed. A flick of his wand combed and tied back his hair, another flick cleaned his teeth.

"_I don't want breakfast!_ I—want—_OREOS_!"

Not daring to approach her for an actual kiss, he made kissy noises in the air, flung open the door, and dashed out down the hall right into Abraxas coming from the other direction, sending them both reeling. The men righted themselves and Lucius looked at his father, who seemed none too pleased.

"Sorry, Father," he mumbled.

"Why is your wife shouting and crying while you're sneaking out?" demanded the older man. "I can hear her all the way down the hall."

"She wants me to get her something, and I don't think it's appropriate," Lucius explained calmly. "She'll get over it."

Abraxas gazed at him as if he were a complete moron, then placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Let me enlighten you, son. Malfoy wives are not ordinary in the worst of times. When you get to choose the woman you love as I did and as you did, she is not just a wife, she's a princess. When your princess is carrying your child in her womb, you do anything and everything to please her, including buying her whatever she asks for."

"But it's—"

"Can you afford it?" asked Abraxas with a cocked eyebrow denoting he knew damn well Lucius could afford whatever it might be.

"Yes, sir, but—"

"Do you know how to acquire it?"

Reluctantly Lucius murmured, "Yes, Father, but—"

"Then you get it for her," said Abraxas in a no-nonsense tone that sounded suspiciously like an order.

"But it's _Muggle_!" Lucius wailed, looking distraught.

Abraxas drew back a bit, startled but curious. What on Earth could Narcissa possibly want that would be of Muggle origin? "What is it?"

Lucius lowered his face and mumbled, "Oreos."

"Which is?"

"Cookies."

Strained, thunderstruck silence. A split second later Abraxas' hand shot out, grabbed his son by the ear, and twisted—hard. Lucius howled. "_Cookies_? You're being an obstinate pain in the ass over _cookies_? Your wife suffers vomiting, backaches, and any number of other complaints because of _your child_, and you dare deny her a miniscule pleasure!"

Struggling to free himself with ear intact, Lucius answered, "I can't send a house elf, I'd have to go to a Muggle store myself!"

Apparently his logical, formidable argument proved ineffective. His father muttered all forms of invectives as he dragged him down the corridor, hauled him down the stairs yelping every time his ear was jerked painfully, and lugged him right up to the front door. Another shake on the ear to get his attention—as if it were truly necessary at this stage of the game—made the blood run from his face.

"You'd better stow your self-righteous attitude, young man! Marriage requires sacrifice. Now get your ass out there and don't come back without those cookies!" A simple wave of Abraxas' hand swung open the door; he tossed Lucius onto the porch, and the door slammed behind him.

Rubbing his burning, stinging ear, and checking to see that it wasn't bleeding, Lucius glowered at the door. "Sure, all my life Muggle things were off limits. Now they're fine, are they?" he griped sarcastically. "What if I decide I want some Muggle toy while I'm out and about playing non-pureblood?" If he didn't find the idea so nauseating, he might actually do it for spite. Then again, if he did he'd have to pay the piper, and the piper's cane hurt like hell. And his death grip on the ear was nothing to laugh at, either.

At any rate, he thought it was a perfect waste of time and energy to quarrel with a door, albeit as productive as arguing with his father. Determining that it was best to do as he was told for the sake of his sanity if not for the continued good health of his body, he turned up his nose at the mansion, brushed off his spotless robes, and Disapparated.

Rather than try to find another Muggle store, one where—God forbid—someone might see him, he opted to go back to the place where he'd originally found those blasted, delicious chocolate biscuits with their smooth, yummy—_stop it, Malfoy!_

Like a fugitive he glanced furtively around the car park he'd appeared in, then purposefully strode at the glass doors; sure enough, they opened for him. He smirked. At least _these_ doors knew their place! He sauntered along ignoring the rude stares of the grotesquely clothed apes parading about as if they believed themselves to be human. It might do them some good to see what they could aspire to.

He'd forgotten precisely which aisle housed the coveted Oreos, so he wandered up and down three aisles before coming to stand before them. _You have to do this, you have no choice, and you're already here. Just get it over with._ He took a deep breath, picked up one of the crinkly packages, headed for the checkout line, and plunked it down.

"Oooh, I remember you!" squealed the cashier, winking in what Muggles obviously found a seductive manner. "You do love junk food, don't cha?"

"It's for my _pregnant_ wife," Lucius retorted haughtily, right before he reached into his pocket to pay the nasty harlot and make his escape. _Oh, God, no!_ He'd been so rattled by Narcissa's distress and his father's dictatorial demands that he'd forgotten: Muggles didn't use proper money! Slowly, eyes going from widened shock to dismal despair, he drew a galleon from his pocket, holding it up with a look of utter dejection.

"Hey, nice coin," remarked the young woman. "What's that, like a pirate gold or somethin'?"

"It's _real_ money," replied Lucius. This couldn't be happening! "I forgot _your_ kind."

"Huh," said the girl, snapping her gum. "We got people waitin' in line. You gonna pay or what?"

"Did I not just say I possess none of your wretched currency?"

She leaned in, crooking her finger at him. He leaned in somewhat, warily. "Gimme that coin and I'll pay for your cookies."

"I'm not paying a galleon for this swill!"

She sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Not even for your wife? Fine! Make it two bags."

Well, this was a conundrum. Fork over a galleon for _two_ bags of the pig slop, or leave to get Muggle money and make another trip here. In lieu of debasing himself by becoming a frequent shopper at Muggle Mart, he looked askance at her. "Three bags."

"Done!" She snatched the coin from his fingers, picked up the microphone and announced, "Dewey, I need two bags of Oreos on register one." She made a little motion at Lucius, indicating he should come around the counter. "You can wait here next to me till Dewey brings the goods."

_Oh, joy_, Lucius moaned inwardly, moving to stand beside her. Wasn't this cozy? If anyone were to see him standing here while the girl rang up the next customer, they might get the idea he…_worked here._ A shudder ran down his spine. The moment the stock boy brought around his merchandise, he grabbed it up and made a mad sprint for the door.

He didn't even hear the cashier call out, "Don't cha want your receipt?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It hadn't been easy to persuade Glenna to permit Jacinta to go to the carnival with Severus. She thought it pointless, as the child was a mere six months old and couldn't actively participate or even remember she'd ever gone. Severus countered by saying Jacinta wouldn't remember anything of her early years, but did it mean they should lock her in a closet and forget about her? At last Glenna relented, cautioning him to take good care of her, then laughing as she admitted she knew he would.

And so, Severus (a.k.a. Zeb) strolled along with his daughter in his arm, amusedly watching the delight on her face at the bright colored lights, spinning rides, screaming crowds, stands packed with all manner of stuffed animals and other toys to be won by anyone good enough to outwit the hucksters who'd rigged the games. When a man dressed as a clown passed by, she scrunched up her face as if intending to cry and clung to her father. He patted her back reassuringly.

"Severus, can we—"

"Julius, I'm in disguise!" huffed his brother. "What's my name?"

"_Zeb_, can we go on the rides?" asked the boy.

"Only if you stay together," answered Severus. He handed them each a string of tickets to be used in place of cash.

"He likes violent, crappy rides," Justina protested.

"And she likes baby puke rides," Julius retorted, shoving her.

Severus glared his most lethal glare which, while holding the capability of terrorizing most of the civilized world, only mildly affected his brother. "You stay together or you stay with me. That's your choice."

The twins looked at each other, decided their own company was preferable to his, and shrugged resignedly, then took off at a run toward the tallest ride, a rollercoaster. Jacinta waved after them, her tiny fist opening and closing.

"Alright, little one, how about papa wins you a prize?" Severus smiled at his girl. It made him sad to think that soon he'd have to stop calling himself papa when they were alone, lest she begin to parrot him. At least she could see him as he was, that was a small comfort. He'd included a special provision in the spell he cast upon himself to change his appearance: Jacinta—and only Jacinta—would always see the true him, not some made up disguise.

"Da, da," she answered, which he'd take as a great compliment if she didn't call _all_ men 'da'.

He ambled past a row of games with carnival workers shouting to gain his attention. He paused, then went over to the baseball toss, where a sign read 'Three Balls, One Ticket'. Handing over a ticket, he sat his daughter on the counter beside him, where she picked up a ball in both hands and proceeded to slobber on it.

"Yuck, germy," he admonished, though he made no move to take it from her. He could do without the tantrum meltdown. She grinned through her drool.

"Knock over three milk bottles, win a big prize," the carny chanted, pointing at the large animals hanging on a string above.

Severus drew back his arm and let the first ball fly. It nicked one of the bottles, which wobbled and settled back into place. The second ball he could swear hit squarely on a bottle, yet it remained upright. Jacinta, imitating Severus, lobbed her ball all of two feet, giggling and squealing at the fun, clapping her hands awkwardly.

"Oh, sorry," the carny said in an obviously fake tone.

"That doesn't count," Severus argued. "She's a baby!"

"Three balls," said the other, turning his attention to a new mark who was holding out a ticket.

Severus felt his hand reaching for his wand. No, mustn't draw notice, especially not now. His lip curled into a sneer as he drawled, "I'll be back." Picking up Jacinta, he swung around and there, face to face with him, was Regulus. Before he thought, the words were coming out.

"Hey, Reg, I didn't expect to see you here at a Muggle carnival."

Regulus eyed him curiously, backing up a bit. "Have we met?"

Damn the luck, he'd forgotten he was in disguise! How f-king careless could he be! "I'm Glenna's cousin…Zeb." Snape struggled not to roll his eyes at the name. "This is her daughter, Jacinta."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of you," Regulus murmured, peering at the child, who gawked right back at him, then she made a sudden lunge for his beautiful, long hair. His Quidditch reflexes served him well in evading the attack. "You're a feisty one, like your mum. Cute kid."

"Thank you—I mean, I'm sure Glenna would thank you," Severus stammered. What was wrong with him? Not only was he making a fool of himself and forgetting simple things like don't talk to Severus' friends as Zeb, he was all but screaming 'I'm undercover, look at me!'.

"I really should stop over and see her, but Jack isn't as much fun as he used to be. He's working at some shop, and when he's home he's super jealous of Glenna. You probably noticed," Regulus commented, motioning for him to walk.

They meandered along, almost shouting over the loud music and jostling crowds. "No, I can't say I noticed," Severus responded. "Why would he be jealous of you?"

"Not me!" Regulus laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Don't say anything to Glenna, but her old boyfriend still has it bad for her, and Jack can tell."

Severus raised his blond eyebrows. "And you'd know this _how_?"

"He's a good friend of mine. He doesn't _say_ it, of course, he's quite a private bloke." He made a face behind Snape's shoulder and the baby erupted in rolling laughter. "You know what's weird? You kind of remind me of him, I'm not sure why."

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Snape, his heart beginning to race.

"What? He's a decent guy."

"Perhaps for a halfblood," drawled Severus.

Regulus turned on him, his eyes now flashing, his tone cross. "Don't get me wrong, Zeb, I believe in pureblood supremacy, but Severus is probably the best friend I ever had. It'd be just like Jack to announce he was a halfblood."

Severus was saved from answering by the twins running back up to him. Julius thrust out a hand. "Zeb, can we have more tickets?" Justina waved and smiled at Regulus.

Severus handed him all the tickets he had in his pocket and then they were gone as quickly as they'd come. He looked back at Regulus, who was smiling conspiratorially.

"Severus Snape, you sneaky bastard!"

"What are you talk—"

"Oh, get off it! You sound like Snape, Snape's brother and sister come to the fair with you. Give me _some_ credit."

"You're mistaken," clipped the other.

"Really? Roll up your left sleeve, prove you're not a Death Eater," suggested Regulus, smirking.

His friend grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off between a tent and a stair rail, away from the crowd and noise. "Alright, it's me. So what?"

Regulus nodded, smiling all the brighter, then as if an idea had exploded in his brain he burst out, "Oh, my God! Jacinta is _your_ kid, that's why you're here with her! That's why Jack is so jealous!"

"Shut up!" Snape hissed in his shall-I-kill-you-now-or-later voice.

"This is the coolest thing ever! You have a daughter!"

"Coolest?" repeated Severus, taken aback. "Since when do purebloods talk like that?"

"I heard it on TV."

Balancing Jacinta in one arm, Severus pushed him back against the railing, his face bearing the mark of desperation. "Regulus, you have a big mouth, you know you do. If Jack's father knew about Jacinta, he'd—"

"Kill her," Black finished for him, becoming very solemn. "I won't say a word, I swear."

"I'd like to trust you, Reg, but your Occlumency skills—for lack of a more refined yet accurate term—suck," Severus observed dryly, still evidently worried. He pulled out his wand. "I can't take the risk of anybody finding out. I'm sorry to do this."

Looking crestfallen after learning such good news that now must be snatched from him, Regulus nodded glumly. "You're right, we can't take the chance. Just don't talk to me the next time you're Zeb."

Bracing himself, he gazed straight ahead at his friend as the latter aimed his wand in his face to _obliviate_ his recent memory.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Regulus became aware of his surroundings in a type of haze. He was standing alone leaning on a railing at a carnival. He vaguely recalled coming to the carnival, but not how he got here off the beaten path. In his present condition, he thought maybe he should just go home, he really didn't feel in the mood for this anymore.

He Apparated onto his doorstep, not bothering to care if Muggles saw him. Likely they'd think they were hallucinating if they did. Once inside he went directly to his room where he got a terrible shock. Sprawled on the floor of his room lay Kreacher, moaning and whimpering. Regulus hurried over to kneel beside him.

"Kreacher, what's wrong? I thought you were with the dark lord."

"Master Regulus," he croaked back, his voice a very strange rasp, and he began to cry. His eyes, already red-rimmed, showed he'd been weeping before his master arrived. "The dark lord hurts Kreacher."

Bit by bit over the course of the next hour Regulus pulled the story from the elf: the boat trip to the cavern island, being made to drink the blistering potion, the locket dropped into the basin and covered with more of the hideous liquid, Lord Voldemort laughing at the piteous elf, abandoning him to the Inferi as Kreacher gulped at the water to soothe his burning insides. _Brinnan durstig_ the dark lord had called it…

"Kreacher, I'm so sorry," murmured Regulus, stroking the elf's bald head. "I didn't know he'd hurt you."

"Kreacher comes home like Master Regulus says," whispered the elf.

"You did well, Kreacher, I'm proud of you." His own insides twisting with guilt, Regulus helped Kreacher up. His mind whirled at what he'd learned. If Lord Voldemort went to so much trouble for a silly _locket_, it could only mean one thing: he'd made it into a horcrux! This was the way he intended to live forever!

"Kreacher, are you alright?" The elf sniffed and nodded. "Lord Voldemort thinks you're dead now. You can't show yourself to anyone but me and my family, or he might find out and try to kill you. Do you understand?"

The house elf nodded vehemently again, his bat-like ears flapping loudly in the quiet room. "Yes, Master Regulus."

"Go on to bed," said the young man gently. When the elf had toddled out, Regulus sat back on his heels, biting his lip. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.


	53. Chapter 53

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Three

The Black family library, while housing a respectable section on the Dark Arts, had nothing to say about _brinnan durstig._ Regulus had spent the better part of two weeks scouring every book; he'd even asked Narcissa's permission to dig through Lucius' collection, all to no avail. He was starting to think that either Kreacher had mis-heard the phrase, or that the dark lord had lied to him. But why would he? He'd anticipated Kreacher's death, he wouldn't care if the elf knew the name of the potion that killed him.

Not content with browsing Lucius' tomes, Regulus had slinked off into the elder Malfoy's study. When Abraxas caught the lad rifling through his library, the young man had confessed to be searching for a particular potion. Mr. Malfoy, upon hearing the name, simply shook his head and said he'd never heard of it, though he was most curious as to why it was so important. Regulus thanked him and scurried out, afraid he might let slip something best kept secret.

With no one else to turn to, he'd hesitantly approached Severus at his home, fighting the distinct mental warning that involving fellow Death Eaters could make the situation worse, which was why he'd avoided Lucius. Death Eaters' first loyalty lay with Lord Voldemort, not with Regulus Black, and if his actions threatened the master…well, they'd be forced to choose a side, and he highly doubted it would be his own. Frankly, he didn't know where else to go. Sure, witches like Philana were knowledgeable, but how much did they know of _dark_ potions? Severus knew more than the vast majority, light or dark.

The Snape family and Regulus finished the evening meal and were watching television in comfortable silence. He liked it here so much better than home, he wished it were his home. He didn't have to demonstrate pureblood insanity to be accepted, he didn't have to do anything except _be_ here. As the night wore on, the twins went off to bed, followed shortly by Eileen, who affectionately kissed the tops of both young men's heads. Regulus blushed, beaming. Though he knew his own mother loved him, she never kissed him.

There was a short period of silence, broken only by the canned laughter on the television. "Do elves and humans react the same way to potions?" asked Regulus out of the blue, staring straight ahead.

Not certain he'd heard correctly, Severus glanced over at his friend. "What about elves?"

"Do they react the same as humans to potions?" repeated Regulus, daring a sidelong glimpse.

"Not usually," said Snape. "Their physiology is different. Why?"

"Just wondering." He resumed his ostensibly rapt attention on the inane comedy, yet his mind worked overtime. Kreacher had drunk the awful poison and lived, but Kreacher was a house elf. Surely the dark lord put up more than adequate protection around his horcrux to ward off humans. There had to be some way around it…

"Regulus, you're acting more strangely than usual," observed Snape.

"Huh? How?"

"You're not talking," smirked the other.

Then Black did something Snape would never have predicted: he clicked off the television set. To the flabbergasted Snape he blurted, "Do you know anything about _brinnan durstig?_"

If Severus hadn't already worn the look of astonishment from his friend's uncharacteristic display only moments ago, he might have betrayed the shock and disgust the words evoked. His stomach lurched. Regaining control of his features, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "Why do you want to know?" What was Black up to?

"I can't tell you," Regulus answered in the same hushed tone.

Severus paused to reflect. Black wasn't the type to be interested in a potion for the sake of knowledge. Did he plan to use it on someone—on a house elf, perhaps? Would he—could he—be so cruel? It wasn't like him. It didn't fit, none of it. "I won't help you poison someone," he said finally.

"So you _do_ know it!"

"Yes," Severus conceded, but offered no more.

There was an awkward silence while each waited for the other to break.

At last Regulus exclaimed, "Well? What can you tell me?"

"It's a long, complicated formula that I doubt you'd have the skill to brew," said Severus honestly. "And if you want to brew it, or have me do it for you, I sincerely question your motives."

"I _don't_ want that," Black fervently assured him. "I just need to know how it affects people."

Intrigued and mildly disturbed without a firm reason for feeling so, Snape peered hard at him. "Why, Reg? How does this involve you?"

"I wish I could tell you, Severus, but I can't. If the dark lord found out you knew…"

Knew what? Now more confused than ever, Severus bit back the desire to tell him he'd already made this potion for the dark lord, who would expect him to be familiar with its properties. If Regulus wasn't planning on using it on someone or gifting it to the master, why did he care how it affected people? What was he playing at?

Severus grimaced while pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you must know, the name means 'burning thirst'. As this implies, it causes the victim's insides to burn horribly, they crave water to quench it."

"And drinking water cures it?" asked Regulus hopefully.

"No. The potion causes death in a very painful manner. There is no cure." Severus stared hard at him, evaluating his reaction. Revulsion, fear…bewilderment?

"Oh," Regulus said softly, then looked away. He picked up the TV control and turned it on, though it was obvious he was still quite distracted. "Anything good on?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was nearly time for the moon to come out… the full moon. Four ragged men hunkered down in the bushes around back of a Muggle Unitarian Church, occasionally glancing up into the sky. They felt the pull in their blood, pounding in their ears, so close they could taste it, and they looked forward to it, to the lust roaring through their bodies as they became the animals that felt no pity, no remorse, nothing but pure satisfaction.

On either side of the group sat a Death Eater, neither of whom was particularly delighted to be here with werewolves. They'd prefer a straight-out wizard attack, it was easy and to the point, and didn't include these foul-smelling beasts. Yet, if the master demanded they be here to lead the raid, who were they to argue? It was an honor, really, to be in charge of training these savages to work for the dark lord.

Dolohov got to his feet, adjusting his mask. "Benton, go in that way. I'll go in the opposite side. You two, come with me. The rest with him."

They flanked the small church where inside a ladies' quilting meeting was being held. Since Dolohov seriously doubted he'd be able to sway the men once they'd become werewolves, he thought it prudent to get them into position before the fact—aim them at the enemy and hope for the best, as it were.

Inch by inch Dolohov slid open a window carelessly left unlocked, though a simple spell would have fixed that tiny snag. He urged the men inside, ordering them to crouch down and wait behind a pile of folded blankets and quilts for the upcoming sale. He'd wait outside, thank you very much. If anyone managed to escape, he'd kill her there. On the other side of the small building, Benton had charmed open the door lock to allow the men to position themselves on the opposite side of the circle of five women chatting blithely on, unaware of the danger in their midst.

Dolohov glanced at his pocket watch. A few _avada kedavra_'s would have finished off the old hens and he could've been on his way back to the master. He didn't understand the purpose of using mindless beasts when wizards were perfectly capable of such a raid, and better, if you asked him. These were Muggles, for crying out loud, it wasn't as if they were witches who could at least put up a decent fight! Werewolves were…well, superfluous, really. They served no purpose at all unless one was going for a messy, gory bloodbath for dramatic effect, and Death Eaters were more than able to provide such a spectacle. In truth, like the rest of the Death Eaters, he resented having these creatures included in their group. It was demoralizing. Werewolves belonged in the forest feeding on rats, not working beside purebloods!

He'd have continued his inward rant had he not noticed the men changing, twisting, tearing off their robes as they morphed into the appalling brutes. He ducked down behind the windowsill, only the top of his mask and eyes showing. The silencing bubble thrown around the church still allowed him to hear everything within. The screams he could do without, it was worse than…okay, maybe not worse than Death Eater raids, but the growling and tearing flesh was new. He actually rather liked screams when he was the one inciting them.

True to his expectations, the four werewolves made short work of the cluster of women in a frenzied attack that left their parts scattered over the floor, their blood soaking into the quilts they were working on and running down the spattered walls. If the master was going for 'gross' as a statement, he'd succeeded.

"Benton!" Dolohov hissed, hoping not to draw the notice of the savages gnawing at the dismembered corpses. Where the hell had he gone? "Ben—" The name caught in his throat. One of the werewolves was holding up an arm to chew—a hairy arm attached to a man's hand, and the arm had a skull emblazoned on it, with a snake winding its way out the mouth.

"Oh, shit!" Dolohov Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"So you left him there?" demanded Voldemort to the man kneeling at his feet.

"Yes, my lord. He's dead, and those creatures you sent us with killed him."

The dark lord paused to contemplate whether punishment should be light, in consideration of the fact that he hadn't taught his Death Eaters the spell to kill the werewolves, and they were basically helpless. Teaching them would have effectively permitted them to eliminate the threat when the beasts attacked, causing Greyback to withdraw his support, and while his support wasn't especially helpful just now, the knowledge spread abroad that werewolves were aligned with the dark wizard was a wonderful propaganda tool. This mission served as a method of striking terror in the wizarding world much more than in the Muggle world.

At last he settled on a hard kick to the stomach, doubling Dolohov over so his forehead rested on the ground in front of his knees. "Go back and get his wand and whatever you can of his body."

"Yes, master," Dolohov croaked. "But the werewolves…"

"Are probably gone looking for more fun by now. If not, I trust you'll figure out a way."

"Yes, my lord." He Apparated back to the church, still hunched over in pain, and looked in the window. Damn it, they were still there! "_Accio_ wand."

The wand picked itself off the floor and flew into his hand. He tucked it into his robe. Using his own wand, he levitated a body in what appeared to be black robes; with all the blood it was difficult to say. As it got closer he could see it was indeed Benton, ripped and slashed, mutilated…but Benton. The werewolves gorging themselves on women flesh seemed fairly uninterested in the body easing itself out the window, followed shortly by a half-eaten arm and a shoe, foot still lodged inside.

Fighting a wave of nausea he never would have experienced had this been an enemy, Dolohov stacked the arm and foot on Benton's chest, wrapped them in his robe, took hold of the body, and Disapparated.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The shaggy black dog padded out of the bright sunlight into the overshadowed woods, to the designated spot as in times when he and Regulus were on better terms. Only the odd wording, the urgency of the owled note asking him here had prompted him to come at all. Seconds later he shifted into his true form.

"Hey, little brother."

"Hi, Sirius," answered the other quietly. He sat on a tree stump, slumped over, head resting on his knees as if he hadn't the energy to sit up.

Sirius regarded him closely. This wasn't like his brother, who was habitually peppy and pleasant and smiling, unless riled. He certainly didn't look angry. "Is something wrong?"

"I…I don't…yes, I think so," Regulus hedged, raising troubled eyes to his brother. "I don't know where else to go. I thought maybe you could help."

"Do you need money? Are mum and dad on your back?"

"No." Regulus shook his head and sighed heavily. "I can't talk to the other Death Eaters, they'd kill me if they knew I had disloyal thoughts, or turn me over to the dark lord."

Disloyal thoughts? Had the boy finally come to his senses? "So you're ready to quit those scumbags? That's great!"

The younger gave a sad smile. "It's not that easy. "If I quit, they'll hound me down and murder me. Anyway, there's something else. Lord Voldemort created a thing he calls a 'horcrux', an object that he put part of his soul into so even if he dies, he'll live on."

"He told you that?" asked Sirius, disbelieving. "What a crock! That old bastard will say anything and expect you all to believe it!"

"Sirius, I think I know what it is! He took Kreacher to a cave with some island—anyway, he almost killed Kreacher, he tried to in order to protect the horcrux's location."

"Too bad he failed," mumbled Sirius, rolling his eyes.

"You're an asshole! Nobody deserves that, and I happen to like Kreacher!"

"Sorry, it was a joke," Sirius protested, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I need to destroy the horcrux, Sirius. That way Voldemort will be mortal again."

"Reg, I'm telling you, he only said all that to scare you guys into following him. No one would dare revolt if they thought he'd be back to get them, right? People can't divide their souls."

"It's dark magic of the worst kind, Sirius, and I do believe him. I was hoping you'd know a way to destroy it," said Regulus, as the awful realization hit that he was indeed alone in this quest. Maybe it was better that way, fewer people risking their lives. "That's alright, it was dumb of me to bring it up."

"I never thought you were dumb, just gullible and easily led," answered Sirius. "If you want to be free of that lot, come to us and Dumbledore will help you hide."

"Why would he help me? I'm his enemy."

"Not if you renounce all that rubbish."

Regulus sighed again and stood up. "I'll think about it. I have a lot of thinking to do…" He trailed off as he looked at his brother. "I should go."

"See you, Reg. Maybe soon?"

Regulus smiled again in that sad, haunting way. "Good-bye, Sirius."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"There you are!"

The voice was so sudden, from nowhere he could see, startling Lucius and setting him on guard, his wand already in hand as he spun around looking for the speaker.

"That won't be necessary," said Mateo, dropping down from the high rafter beams of the porch. He landed a few meters away, grinning. "I don't intend to attack you."

"What are you doing here?" The wand hadn't budged, and was aimed directly at the vampire's chest.

Mateo clucked his tongue while shaking his head. "I thought someone of your upbringing would demonstrate better manners."

Lucius' stomach flipped as a horrible thought raced through his mind. Were there others here? Had they gotten into the house? He made a lunge for the door while holding his wand steady. Heart racing, he threw open the heavy wooden slab, dashed inside, and slammed it hard.

"Master Lucius," Sisidy greeted, trotting up to take his cloak.

"Sisidy, is Narcissa alright? And my father?"

"Yes, Master Lucius," she squeaked with a confused expression.

"Are you sure? Go check and come right back." Lucius paced the foyer anxiously, berating himself for not thinking to put up anti-vampire spells, if indeed such things existed. Hell, if he put up a spell for everything that might come into the house, the manor would be so charmed they wouldn't be able to safely live there. Only seconds later the elf reappeared, mirroring his anxiety.

"They is fine, Master Lucius. Is something wrong? Is you sick?"

"Has anyone else been in the house?" he asked, ignoring her fussing over him.

"No, Master Lucius. Is my master well?" Her already wrinkled skin puckered more into a worried frown.

Permitting himself to breathe again, he relaxed somewhat as he lowered the wand. "I'm fine, I'll be on the porch for a bit. If I don't come in soon, check on me."

"As you wish, Master Lucius." Her cheek rubbed against his leg in her typical show of affection. "Sisidy does anything for master."

Lucius petted her head, opened the door once more, and slipped outside. The _sangrista_ hadn't moved, though now he stood there with arms crossed, wearing an injured expression. With his keen sense of hearing, he'd listened to the whole conversation and found it less than flattering.

"If you'd asked me, I'd have told you I was alone and that I hadn't touched your family," Mateo stated.

"And of course I'd be honor bound to believe you," Lucius drawled mockingly. "Why are you here? Has Buitrago changed his mind?"

"No, nothing so radical. I just wanted to talk to you." He paced over a few steps to lower himself into one of the wicker chairs on the porch. He gestured with one hand for Lucius to join him.

At first hesitating, Lucius walked over and sat down, his countenance betraying nothing. "And what might a vampire have to say that I'd be interested in hearing?"

"You are a friendly one, aren't you?" Mateo queried with more than a little sarcasm to match Lucius' tone. "I've been here before. No, I don't mean the time I came with Yadiro. I mean before you were born."

Alright, Lucius was interested, grudgingly so. He sat up a little straighter in his chair. "When?"

"Several times, actually. The earliest was around, oh…" He glanced up into nothingness, tapping his fingers lightly on the arm of the chair. "1717, I believe was my first visit. I met your ancestor Darius Malfoy. His wife was pregnant with his heir."

Lucius felt the blood running from his cheeks. He'd wanted to believe the vampire was making the whole thing up in some bid for attention or who knew why, but Lucius knew the Malfoy genealogy tree by heart, he'd had to learn it as a child. Darius Malfoy produced his heir in the year 1717. How could Mateo know that unless he'd really been here? Or was it something more subtle? Had he studied the tree, and if so, for what purpose? Was this vampire making some cloaked reference to Narcissa when he mentioned the pregnant wife? This was just too strange, too much of a coincidence. In a gruff voice he said, "What is your point?"

"No point, really. We got on well, I visited him on and off until he died, although he asked that I stay away from his son." He smiled to himself. "Seems to run in the family, this aversion to me. Darius was a nice bloke, unlike your grandfather. Uh! He was a bastard and a half!"

Again, how could Mateo know that about his grandfather? It was true, from all accounts of his father… Forgetting he wanted this 'person' gone, Lucius asked in dismay, "You met my grandfather?"

"Oh, yes. Horatio was a young man at the time, like you. He ordered me off the property. Pompous ass," Mateo muttered.

"Are you calling me a pompous ass?" demanded Lucius.

The _sangrista_ laughed very quietly as if he held a private joke, his exposed fangs reminding Lucius this was no ordinary visitor. "I said your grandfather was. I don't know _you_ well enough to make that assertion." He smirked over at Malfoy.

Lucius' brows dipped slightly, his grey eyes turning cold. "You're not endearing yourself to me. Why did you come here—not just today, but to meet my grandfather and Darius? What is your obsession with my family?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," answered Mateo, leaning back and peering at the other with clear blue eyes.

"Try me."

Mateo gave a little shrug and let out a breath. "After meeting Horatio, I wasn't sure I ever wanted to come back, but then you showed up in Spain. I got curious. As I'm sure you weren't aware, I come from a very prominent family myself. Didn't you wonder when Yadiro said I prefer not to use a surname?"

"Not particularly."

"Of course not," Mateo growled, grimacing while attempting to smile. What was it with these Malfoys and their snooty attitudes? He got up and strolled to the edge of the porch, surveying the enormous front lawn. "You live your perfect life, why would you spare a thought for anyone else?"

By now Lucius had to twist around to see Mateo, and he most definitely didn't like the idea of this vampire being out of sight. He got up to face him, but Mateo continued his contemplation of the yard, paying Lucius no heed. "Oh, do enlighten me on this elusive secret of your name," Lucius replied sarcastically, vaguely intrigued but not wishing to show it.

Mateo ran a hand over his cropped blond hair. He didn't look back at Lucius, he didn't need to see his expression. "It's Malfoy." He leapt into the night air and flew off.


	54. Chapter 54

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Four

"Yes, my love? Is there something I can do for you?" Lucius looked up from his comfortable leather chair at his desk in his study where he'd been endeavoring to get some work done, but a visit by his alluring wife had put everything on hold. This pregnancy, while making her periodically ill, had the effect of brightening her already beautiful self in a way he could only describe as a…glow. Rather pedestrian choice of words, albeit true. "You look radiant, Narcissa."

"Oh, you're just being nice." Nevertheless, she moseyed in, captivating him with the sway of her hips, and proceeded to pay him an obscene amount of innuendo-laden attention. "My, do you always look so handsome when you work? I hope the women know enough to keep their eyes to themselves." She licked her lips as she stroked one hand lightly up one side of his body, around the back of his neck, and down his chest, halting at the belt level. "There _is_ something you can do for me, and I dare say you'll enjoy it as much as I will."

Lucius swallowed, feeling a pleasant sensation growing in his nether regions. "I'd do anything for you, dear. Name it."

"Do I need to say it?" she teased, her lips brushing his ear. With a snap of her fingers the band holding his hair burst open and his mane spilled over his shoulders.

He was only human, what could he do? He plunked her down onto his lap to assail her with kisses from the tip of her nose to her neck, ever so slowly, tantalizingly working his way south. Narcissa groaned her pleasure.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered. His teeth bit lightly into her neck, leaving a pink mark on her pale skin. "Do you like it, wench? Shall I pleasure you more?" His lips headed lower while his hands grappled with whatever he could touch. This was rapidly turning from a smooch-fest into an R-rated venture.

"Perhaps I should come back later?" Severus stood in the open doorway, the corner of his mouth struggling against his desire to smirk, while feeling somewhat awkward.

The two Malfoys jerked their heads in his direction, their faces flushing in unison. Narcissa yanked her husband's hand out of her blouse, sprang up, and swept down her robes, which thankfully hadn't yet begun to abandon her body as Lucius built up steam. Wisely, Lucius remained seated, turning his chair to slide his legs under the desk, thereby hiding any telltale signs of his wanton activity.

"Severus, I didn't expect you," he said smoothly. "Won't you come in?"

"Hi, Severus," Narcissa greeted, raking her fingers through her hair.

"Hello to you both. The elf told me I'd find you here, I'm sorry to disturb your…chat," Snape answered, walking in to sit opposite Lucius, assiduously avoiding eye contact with either of them. On the desk he noticed a plate of cookies and his smirk could no longer contain itself. "Oreos? I had no idea, Lucius."

"Oh, those are mine," Narcissa grinned, dragging the plate over to pick one up. "They're _Muggle_. Isn't it positively _sinful_?" She took a bite and offered the plate to Severus.

"No, thank you. Where on Earth did you ever get them?"

Lucius raced to make up a line, but he wasn't quick enough. His wife leaned over him, hugging his neck, and said, "Lucius got them for me in a Muggle grocery. He's such a wonderful husband!" She kissed the top of his head, leaving black Oreo crumbs in his hair, which she then tried to brush off with repeated wipes and flicks of her fingers.

The wizard reached up to gently snatch her hand, his face flushing again. "Thank you, dear."

"But you have crumbs in your hair, my love." Flick, flick.

"I'm fine, Narcissa," he said, once more guiding her hand away. "You can pick them out later, I think Severus wants to talk to me."

"Oh, alright, I can take a hint." She bent over to give him one more lingering kiss on the mouth. "Bye, Severus."

Severus gave a little wave, then to Lucius he teased, "So, Mr. Pureblood frequents Muggle stores. Who would've thought? Maybe sometime I'll bump into you." He was snickering by now.

Lucius delivered an imperious glare. "If anyone else 'happens' to find out, I'll hex you so badly even _you_ won't be able to cure you."

"Oooh, someone's a little touchy. If it bothers you that much, I'll buy Narcissa's cookies for you."

Brightening, Lucius sat up a bit straighter. "Will you? That would be magnificent! I've only one more bag hidden here in my drawer, but she's eating them like they're going out of style." He stood up, reached into his pocket, drew out a hefty handful of galleons, and dumped them on the desk in front of Snape. "There you go, that should be enough to get me—her—through the pregnancy."

Snape shook his head, smiling wryly at his friend's pitiful attitude. There'd never been any doubt Malfoy and the other Death Eaters believed themselves superior to Muggles—and everyone else, but to note the mortification at the prospect of having to enter a Muggle establishment was truly amusing. Then he remembered the reason for coming and his gaiety waned. He took a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ out of his robe and dropped it on the desk.

Lucius glanced at it, then back at Severus. "Yes?"

"I'm aware you read the paper every day, you must have seen it. There's an article on the front page; Benton is dead, presumed murdered by werewolves."

"Hmm," Lucius answered, fingering the paper. "I saw it, but I already heard from Rookwood, who heard it from Yaxley, who got it from Dolohov that he was killed on a raid involving our dear friends the werewolves. Dolohov witnessed the whole thing, he had to bring the body back."

"Gossip does indeed spread fast," Severus observed, thinking how much it reminded him of school days when rumors and gossip flew. "I saw in a Muggle newspaper that five women were mauled to death; the authorities are baffled. Can I assume this was the same raid?"

Malfoy nodded. "The dark lord made a mistake in enlisting those beasts," he said in a near whisper. "They're savages, they've already killed one of ours, how many more will there be?"

"That's why I'm here," Severus replied. He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Lucius. "It's a new potion called Wolfsbane. It allows a werewolf to retain his senses during a full moon."

Lucius scanned the formula and instructions briefly. "You invented this?" he asked incredulously, though in truth he wouldn't be _too_ surprised, as Snape was a miracle worker.

"No, I didn't. I wanted to ask your opinion on whether I should give it to the dark lord. Would he use it, and if so, won't I be encouraging more innocent deaths as he sicks werewolves on people?"

Lucius snorted involuntarily. "Do you think Lord Voldemort will _stop_ using the werewolves because of Benton? Dream on. The raids will continue, he's going for a terror effect, and this does it beautifully. I'm not sure if he cares how many of us die in that pursuit, and unless he teaches everyone to repel the filth, none of us will be safe."

"You fought werewolves after your father-in-law was murdered," Severus recalled aloud. "The dark lord taught you how, didn't he?"

"Yes. They're charmed, they won't die from the _avada_ like normal people," he responded bitterly. "He didn't give us permission or instruction to show anyone else, but he didn't forbid it, either. I'll teach you, just don't tell him."

"As if I would," Severus rejoined. "So you think I ought to give him this formula?"

"I do. It won't cause any deaths that weren't already planned, and it may insure that innocent bystanders are left alone. Not to mention that if I were to be ordered on a raid with those brutes, I'd feel better knowing they had their wits about them."

Lucius made a good point, one Severus shared. Any one of them could be ordered on a mission at any time. He'd feel safer, too, not only if the werewolves drank the potion, but if he knew a spell to protect himself from them. Magical creatures that they were, he'd suspected ordinary magic wouldn't be effective against them. Speaking of magical creatures….

"Lucius, some time back Regulus told me he was at the castle when you arrived there with two vampires. Please tell me he was hallucinating."

The other chuckled softly. "While Regulus may be soft headed, he was right. No one is supposed to know why they were there. You're fairly intelligent, I imagine you can guess why they were there."

"Lord Voldemort tried to enlist them as allies," Severus proposed with a certainty in his voice. It explained perfectly the dark lord's brooding mood, his fit of pique when he announced he'd joined forces with the werewolves. "The werewolves were a poor second choice after the vampires declined his offer!"

Lucius applauded lightly. "Quite correct. To make matters more complicated, recently one of those vampires made an appearance here to visit me."

Severus' eyebrows shot up. "So now you're hanging around with vampires? You surprise me, Lucius."

"I'd hardly call it 'hanging around' with him," Lucius answered dryly. "Besides, he's a _relative_ vampire."

"As in 'relatively vampire-like'?" asked Snape.

"As in 'we're related'. So he claims."

"Wow," said Severus, not knowing how to answer that. What does one say to the declaration that one's friend is kin to a vampire? Congratulations? My condolences? Good luck?

Lucius went on, seemingly oblivious to Severus' silence. "This is another thing I highly doubt would please the master—finding out I'm ostensibly related to one of the vampires who refused to join his cause. He'd feel compelled to take out his displeasure on me, so I trust you to keep it in confidence."

"Of course," Snape agreed. "Do you believe him, do you think he's telling the truth?"

"I don't know." Lucius paused for a moment, then said, "No. I don't know what his angle is, but if he's spreading this story it could get back to the dark lord."

"Why would he lie to make the master angry with you? You didn't do anything to him, did you?" asked Severus, seriously hoping the answer was no. Malfoy did have a tendency to say things to piss people off….

"I have no idea, I did nothing to him. I haven't even mentioned it to my father or Narcissa. I don't want to worry them."

"Maybe you ought to warn them. What if he returns? Shouldn't they be prepared?"

As much as Lucius wished he could say it wasn't necessary, that he found it unlikely Mateo would come back after his frosty reception the first time, in Narcissa's condition he couldn't take chances. "I guess you're right. The master taught me a spell to kill vampires, too. I'll teach all of you, just in case he returns."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"So are you going back?"

Mateo shrugged, staring down at the ground from his perch in the crook of a large tree, Tonia beside him resting her feet on his lap as she leaned against the trunk. "Why bother? I should've known Darius was an anomaly. The other times I tried to make contact I was rebuffed."

"You didn't say Lucius rejected you," she stated.

"I left before he had the opportunity."

"Then how do you know he would have?" she insisted.

"Because he's a Malfoy!" Mateo barked, lifting his eyes to hers, both pairs glowing in the moonlight. "That's the way they are, with their superior, condescending attitude."

Tonia smiled and sat up, drawing back her legs and bending forward to run her hand over his short blond hair, stroking him affectionately. "Like you?"

"I'm not like that!"

"You're a Malfoy, aren't you?"

He sniffed. "Rest assured you won't find me in the family record. Can we change the subject?"

Tonia's hand lowered, sliding over his cheek, to drop down and grasp his hand, squeezing almost painfully. "Mateo, it's not my decision, but I think you should go back, at least give Lucius a chance. Yadiro told me he seemed like a reasonable man."

Mateo pried her fingers loose from his hand, then took it gently between both of his own. He wanted to go back, yet he didn't want to. There was so much he would like to know and share… Humans didn't understand _sangristas_, they feared and hated them without cause. Only a tiny percentage of _sangristas_ he was aware of had ever killed a human, and fewer still had done so by draining their blood. They generally fed only once a week, unless the blood consumed was a small amount, and they needed far less to sustain them than a whole body carried. He was tired of prejudice, he was tired of trying to gain acceptance. And what for anyway?

"Mateo?"

"I often wonder why Darius befriended me," Mateo said softly, almost as if speaking to himself. "He was an only child, lonely I suppose. We spent many happy hours together walking the grounds and talking while his wife and children slept. Yet he never once permitted me into his house."

"Perhaps the old superstition that if you invite a vampire into your home, he'll kill you," Tonia offered. "I believed it myself until I was turned."

"Most likely," Mateo agreed. "I grieved for him when he died. I was naïve enough to think others might welcome my friendship, but I was wrong. Three times I made contact after Darius passed, not counting Lucius, and every time was a disaster. I shouldn't have expected anything different from Lucius, should I?"

Tonia shuffled closer to him so she could wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his chest. "I didn't mean to upset you. Why don't we head into the city, to a club? That always perks you up."

Poised to say 'no', Mateo paused to consider it. He loved to dance in these modern ways, it was much more fun than the stuffy waltzes he'd grown up with. It always tickled him how easy it was to cast a hypnotic glance on the doorman and be admitted immediately, despite the fact that he'd paid no cover charge or that the club was full or that he hadn't bothered to dress appropriately. And he enjoyed the way men looked at Tonia with longing when she had eyes only for _him_; it made him feel special in a way he wasn't used to after losing his wife so very long ago. Sometimes he wondered if Tonia even noticed the attention paid her.

He lifted her chin and kissed her tenderly, then with growing passion, stopping himself before he got lost in her essence. "Sure, let's go. I could use a night out."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Regulus lifted the small piece of parchment from his desk and read it over silently to himself by the light of his wand; his jaw set determinedly, he folded it and placed it inside a locket which he slipped into his pocket. His gaze drifted around his room, decked out in silver and green, settling on the family crest painted over his bed, then back to the lone picture of his family, taken when Sirius still lived at home, before he'd gone bad. For a moment his resolve faltered; tears sprang to his eyes and his lips twitched. For them. He'd do it for them. Nodding to himself, he swallowed hard as he wiped at his eyes.

"I'm sorry mum and dad," he whispered. "Somebody has to take a stand, somebody has to stop the maniac."

He drew in a full, deep breath, took one more look at the room, and walked out, carefully treading down the stairs to avoid waking his parents.

"Kreacher," came Regulus' hushed voice in the darkened kitchen.

The elf stirred on his blankets in his cupboard, his groggy mind mulling over whether he'd heard a voice, then his huge eyes flicked open. "Master?" He rolled over, tumbled onto the floor, and got up to bow to Regulus.

"Kreacher, I've made a decision." He paced nervously back and forth, his whole countenance heavy with worry. "You Apparated here from the island you told me about, right?"

"Yes, Master Regulus." Kreacher's ears twitched as he picked up on the boy's anxiety.

"So you can Apparate back there." It wasn't a question.

"No, Master Regulus!" screamed the elf, prompting Regulus to physically shut him up by tackling him and laying a hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet, my family mustn't hear us!" he hissed. To the whimpering elf he added in an unconvincing tone, "It'll be alright."

"No, evil, it's evil," Kreacher moaned.

"Lord Voldemort is evil, someone has to stop him…. I have to do this."

"Why my beloved Master Regulus? Why not a lesser wizard?" pleaded the old elf. "No, mustn't go to the horrid evil place, master mustn't."

Regulus wasn't listening, he couldn't afford to be swayed. "Take me to the island with the basin of poison, Kreacher. Now."

Sniffling, Kreacher took hold of his pantleg and they Disapparated. The place where they arrived looked like nothing more than a big, flat rock with a stone basin on a pedestal. Surrounding them was a sea of calm water that gave him chills to even look at. Regulus stepped over to the basin and peered inside at the green glowing liquid, shuddering as he recalled what Kreacher had said about it.

Pulling a quill from his robe, he poked it down at the potion, only to have it stop before reaching the surface as if prevented by an invisible barrier. He pressed his hand toward the surface with the same result. Great. He'd supposed the dark lord would charm the hell out of the thing, yet in the back of his mind he still held a glimmer of hope that this might be easy. After all, Kreacher had told him of the twisted, convoluted hexes and guards set up to insure no one made it this far, and if no one but the dark lord could find this place and get here safely, why jinx the stupid potion, too? It was _poison_, it didn't need extra hexes!

Okay, he couldn't simply reach in and get the locket. He waved his wand over the top, mumbling a vanishing spell. No luck. He tried to transfigure it into water, again without success. When he'd tried everything he could possibly think of, some repeated times, he grunted in exasperation. Apparently Lord Voldemort made Kreacher drink the liquid because there was no other way. Even so, he charmed the quill into a teacup and scooped up the glowing poison, held it at arm's length, and poured it out. The liquid fell from the cup, swooped upward, and sloshed right back into the basin.

"You son of a bitch," Regulus growled. "I hope you rot in hell, but not before you discover who helped put you there!"

One more thing, he could try one more, though by now he already anticipated failure. He took a coin from his pocket and transfigured it into another cup. First he scooped full the teacup, then he dipped the other cup into the basin; it stopped dead before striking the surface. _So this is how he wants to play_! griped Regulus.

"Master Regulus, we should go now. Can't make poison go away." Kreacher stood looking up at him, tugging at Regulus' robes, his golf ball sized eyes watering.

This was it. There was no alternative if he wanted to make the dark lord mortal. He set both cups on the edge of the basin and knelt down in front of Kreacher, sitting back on his heels so they were nearly the same height, and he placed his hands on the elf's shoulders. Remembering something, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket with his note inside; he handed it to the elf, then placed his hand back on the shoulder again.

"Kreacher, I know you don't want me to do this, and I don't want to die, either, but—"

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher bawled, his wretched features appearing positively tortured. "No, Master Regulus, you can't die! Let Kreacher drink the nasty poison! Kreacher can—"

"No," he said quietly. "I would never do that to you. Now listen very carefully." He had to speak louder over Kreacher's mournful howling. He felt surprisingly calm now that his choice was firmly made, and he even felt sorry for Kreacher, who'd been a good house elf, who loved him, who shouldn't have to watch his master meet such a heinous fate. "When the basin is empty, switch the lockets and replenish the potion. You must take the locket home and destroy it, do you understand?"

"Yes," Kreacher sobbed. "Kreacher m-must g-go home and destroy the evil l-locket."

"That's right. And you can't tell Mistress Black or any of my family where I am or what's become of me."

Kreacher's red rimmed eyes grew to the size of tennis balls, all the while dripping tears down his cheeks. "But Mistress loves Master Regulus! How can she go on not knowing?"

"You love her, don't you? If she knew, if any of them knew, Lord Voldemort would kill them. It's for their safety, Kreacher. You have to protect Mistress."

The elf straightened his spine as he gulped back his sobs. "Kreacher must protect Mistress."

"Good job, Kreacher." He stood up, patted the elf's head, and looked over at the basin. There was no point in putting it off any longer. Before he could begin, Kreacher implored him once more.

"Master Regulus won't let Kreacher drink filthy poison, but why can't Master Regulus come home with Kreacher after…after master drinks it? Please!"

"Because _brinnan durstig_ kills humans, there is no cure," Regulus explained matter-of-factly, sending the elf into hysterics once more. Lord Voldemort had obviously thought it would kill elves, too, but he didn't do his research, and that would come back to haunt him. It was small consolation for what was to come, but it was all he had. "I don't want my mother and father to watch me die—" His voice caught in his throat. The very thought of their anguish broke his heart.

With Kreacher wailing in the background, he approached the basin, said a short prayer, and picked up the teacup still full of the potion. In two swallows he downed the liquid, feeling it sear his insides all the way. There was no going back now, he'd succumb whether he retrieved the horcrux or not, but he'd be damned if he'd let himself perish here for Voldemort to find and gloat over.

Cupful after cupful he chugged in rapid succession, scarcely giving himself time to breathe in between. Desperate cries of despair escaped his lips. Clinging to the edge of the basin with all his strength, he forced himself to drink. Nothing existed anymore except his need to finish consuming this potion, nothing else mattered. Between the screams he couldn't contain and the terrible visions floating through his mind, his frenzied determination kept the cup, seemingly of its own accord, continuing to dip into the liquid to be gulped down as fast as he could move.

At last the teacup scraped the bottom of the basin. It was finished. Unable to let go of the cup clutched in his hand, sobbing and moaning as much from the painful hallucinations as from the gut wrenching agony, Regulus collapsed on the stone.

"Water," he rasped.

"Master Regulus!" Kreacher squalled. He lifted the cup and magically filled it with water that disappeared before the could get it to his master' lips. "Master!"

"Go home, Kreacher." Regulus ordered in a bare whisper, crawling slowly toward the edge of the slab. "Take the locket…"

In an attempt to alleviate the horrendous blistering of his insides, he plunged his face into the eerie, cold water and drank frantically. Instantly ghastly white hands stretched upward, snagging in his hair, entwining in his robes, dragging him to the brink. Kreacher's screams of desperation went unheard, mingling with his own. With a gurgling murmur Regulus disappeared into the lake.


	55. Chapter 55Memorial

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Five

(**Author's Note**: Once more I'd like to thank all of you for sticking with me this far, especially considering when I began this story I anticipated only 6-10 chapters! I also very much respect and appreciate the time readers take to review. I respond in PM's to those who are signed in; to those who review anonymously, I may not respond on the site, but please know I do value your opinions and take them to heart.)

_**December 1979**_

"Master, that halfblood Snape wants to see you." Bellatrix wound herself around the dark lord's body almost like a snake, pressing her cheek to his. "Shall I tell him to go away? Or _crucio_ him?" Her eyebrows raised hopefully and she got a cheery smile at the thought.

"Did he say what he wants?" Voldemort took hold of her arm and pulled her onto his lap, where she giggled like a schoolgirl. He delighted in her innocent mannerisms even if they were blatantly false and misleading.

"No, my lord. He said it wasn't any of my business!" Her pout created a sour look on her otherwise lovely face. "I don't like him. Can I _crucio_ him?"

Voldemort was busy massaging her rear end with one hand under her tiny skirt, imagining how later he'd enjoy spanking that perfect tush to a glowing red. Bellatrix reveled in their games even more than he did; she was, in fact, the creative mind behind most of the ideas.

"No, not just yet. I'll see if it's important, and if it isn't you can torture his worthless carcass as much as you want. Happy?"

"Oh, yes!" she gushed, flinging herself at him and squeezing him tightly. "Master, you're so kind!"

Gently pushing the woman off his lap, he stood up and straightened his robes. With Bellatrix padding along behind him, he walked the short distance from his bedroom into the Death Eater meeting hall where his throne was located. He'd never actually called it a throne, thought clearly it was, and he knew his followers took it as such. It was only fitting to have visible reminders of his authority over them lest they get the idea they were _equals_. Something akin to a laugh gurgled up into his throat, nearly choking him, and he set to coughing violently.

"My lord!" Bellatrix gasped. "Help him, you good-for-nothing!" she screamed at Severus.

"I'm fine, Bellatrix," Voldemort assured her, dragging her by the skirt backward toward himself. She looked poised to attack and devour the young man kneeling at his feet.

Severus kissed the master's robe, then rose to his feet, removing his mask. "My lord, it's come to my attention that you've begun utilizing our allies the werewolves," he began, dancing delicately around the subject. "I heard one of our companions was mauled… killed by them."

"And your point is?" answered Voldemort, his red eyes boring into Snape's.

"We need not suffer more deaths of your followers." Severus took out a parchment onto which he'd copied the Wolfsbane formula, leaving the original copy at Philana's shop. "This—"

Before he could finish, Bella snatched the paper away and presented it to the dark wizard, who held up a hand to silence Snape while he pored over the potion and its effects. After reading it thoroughly, he asked but one question: "Does it work?"

"Yes, my lord. I…I've been given a guarantee that it is effective." Why did he feel this reluctance to simply admit Lupin gave it to him and that it worked?  
"Make it, then," Voldemort ordered. "A large supply."

"That's not possible, my lord. It—"

A _crucio_ from Bella's wand sent him howling to the floor. It lasted only a few moments, for the dark lord lifted her wand with a slight nudge of his finger while casting her a disapproving glance, then told Snape to rise.

Panting, wiping the wetness from his eyes, Severus got up on his hands and knees, not thinking clearly from the pain and too enraged to arm himself before spitting, "You stupid bitch, what the f-k was that for?"

Her wand aimed again, but Voldemort said in a cold voice, "Bellatrix, I told you to wait."

"My lord, he _defies_ you!" she cried, looking mortally wounded. "You gave him a command and he refused!"

"Severus, explain."

Severus finally got back onto his feet, his fingers gripping his own wand at the ready now. "Forgive me, my lord, I meant no disrespect. Before that banshee ambushed me, I meant to say the potion must be made on the day of the full moon, and can set no longer than four hours before being consumed."

"I see," said Lord Voldemort, handing the parchment to Bellatrix. "Can you make this?"

While she studied the formula, Severus struggled unsuccessfully to contain his derisive laughter. _Bellatrix make the potion?_ It was like asking an imbecile to translate the works of Chaucer into Swahili!

"I think I can, master," she said with a sneer at Snape.

"My lord, it must be flawless or it won't work," Severus countered, drawling as he sneered back at her. "If she mucks it up, as we must assume she will, the werewolves will be as dangerous as ever to our men."

"I will not!" Bella's outstretched wand flung a purple curse hurtling right at the young man. Snape blocked it with his own, but delivered no retribution. He realized all too well who the favorite here was, and it wasn't _him_.

To his surprise, Voldemort physically took hold of her arm once more, though he didn't bring her to his lap as before. He hissed, "Bellatrix, I warned you once. If you persist, I will be compelled to punish you."

Her wand arm fell limply to her side as her jaw began to tremble. Severus noted her subdued attitude, her watering eyes. _Oh, Lord, no! She's going to cry!_ Not that he could care less if she sobbed herself right into the grave, but he didn't want to bear witness to it. Besides, she was in all probability doing it for sympathy, to get the dark lord to turn his wrath on Severus.

"Master, I'll be more than happy to make the formula on the full moon whenever you need it," he said hurriedly. "That's really all I came for. If there's nothing else…?"

Voldemort glanced from Severus to Bella, a thin smile forming on his lips. The boy must fear he'd be blamed for causing her to break down! If he weren't afraid of choking on his own laughter again, he'd have guffawed. "Good work, Severus. I'll notify you when I require your services."

"Yes, my lord, thank you." He bowed, wheeled, and bounded from the room to the wretched sound of Bellatrix's mournful wailing.

He didn't see Voldemort turn to the woman and wipe a tear from her cheek to stare at it in puzzlement, or hear what he said, "I'm not angry with you, Bellatrix. I'm not going to punish you."

"You're not?" she hiccupped, blinking rapidly. "I only wish to serve you and protect you, my lord."

"I understand that. Now go make yourself beautiful for me, I'd like to pick up where we left off." As Bella started off he said, "Once I control the wizarding world, you have my permission to kill all the werewolves. Will that please you?"

Bella spun back, her face alight, her sorrow forgotten. "I can? Oh, thank you, master! Thank you!" She ran back, threw herself at his feet, and proceeded to profusely kiss his robe, then jumped up and skipped from the room.

Voldemort smiled again to himself. It was so easy to please women, he couldn't understand why other men had such a difficult time of it. Then again, they _were_ inferior to him. He shrugged and followed Bellatrix back to the bedroom.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Narcissa?" Lucius moved over to the bed where his wife sat motionless. "Honey, are you alright?"

Narcissa looked over at him with mournful eyes that bespoke deeply held grief and angst. She tried to answer, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she simply shook her head.

Lucius sat down beside her, encircling her with one strong arm. With the other hand he tipped her face up and over to look at him. "You're worrying me. Tell me what's wrong. It's—it's not the baby, is it?"

"No, Lucius, the baby's fine." She heard him let out a relieved breath. "I came back from my mother's house a little while ago. Aunt Wahlburga was visiting and she said Regulus is…missing. He hasn't been home for over a week." Her voice went up a bit at the end.

"Have they checked with his friends?"

"Some of them," she said softly.

"You don't think he ran away like his despicable brother, do you?" The very notion that Regulus might have run off to join the blood traitor was nauseating.

"I don't think so. He's a Death Eater, Lucius, he's not exactly welcome in _those_ circles." Narcissa sighed and snuggled closer to her husband. "His mother is very upset, she said Uncle Orion is beside himself. What if Reg is hurt somewhere?"

"Did you check with Severus? It seems they've been spending a lot of time together lately," Lucius suggested.

"No, I didn't think of that. Would you mind?"

"I'll owl him right away," the man promised. "Won't you come down to supper now? Father's waiting for us, I wouldn't want him to think I forgot why I came up here." With a sly wink he pulled her into a hard embrace.

"May I ask you another favor?"

"Ask me anything."

"If Reg isn't with Severus, will you go to the dark lord and ask him to summon my cousin? I wouldn't ask but I don't know what else to do," she pleaded. "We're all so worried, it's not like him to do this."

"Of course I will," he answered. He wasn't terribly concerned, to be honest. The boy had probably got tired of family life and needed a little time away. At Regulus' age, he needed some independence. At the same time, Narcissa was right, it wasn't like Regulus to disappear; wherever he was or whatever mischief he might be getting into, the dark lord's call would bring him back. He sincerely wouldn't want to be in that kid's shoes when the Black family got ahold of him!

He sent Narcissa ahead of him downstairs while he dashed off a quick note to Severus, tied it to his owl's leg, and sent it off. By the time supper was through, he'd hopefully have a response.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus had sent back a note with Lucius' owl; he hadn't seen Regulus in over a week, either. He'd assumed Lord Voldemort had sent him on a mission somewhere, either that or Regulus was sulking at home. Apparently the latter was incorrect.

Lucius didn't relish going to the dark lord begging a favor, yet he'd promised Narcissa. What if Lord Voldemort didn't appreciate having his follower asking him to call someone 'just because they were worried'? Possibly Regulus _had_ been sent on a mission, which would solve everything, but he highly doubted it. Any mission lasting that long would involve more trained, mature Death Eaters. And to be honest, he truly was concerned about the little dork, who may be annoying, but he was a nice kid. And so, standing outside the castle, swathed in his heavy duty winter Death Eater robes (he prided himself on being the only one who had Death Eater robes for every season now), he balanced his wand across his gloved palm in one last attempt to locate the boy.

"Point me Regulus Black." The wand remained stubbornly motionless as it had for the rest of the family who tried it, which he found most bizarre. Perhaps Black was too far away…

He went on in and removed his mask. As there was nobody in the front, he went on to the meeting room, casting a disparaging glance at the empty throne. And people called Malfoys pretentious! "My lord, are you here? Master!" He rolled his eyes as Bellatrix came sauntering in. Seriously, did she EVER go home? Had she divorced Rodolphus without his knowledge?

"So, blondie—_sorry_, I mean _Lucius_—what brings you here?"

A multitude of unflattering things leaped to his tongue, but he held them in check. Reg was this skank's cousin, too. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't need to entreat the dark wizard, he could let Troll-zilla do it! Always best not to be indebted more than necessary.

"I came to tell you your cousin appears to be missing, Bella. His family and my wife are most distressed."

"What cousin? Sirius?" She let out a loud cackle. "Why should I care about a blood traitor? He's not family!"

"Not him, _Regulus_! No one's seen him in ten days," Lucius explained with just the right amount of anxiety.

Without a word Bella drew her wand, placed it on her palm, then intoned, "Point me Regulus Black."

"I already tried that," Lucius said wearily. "All of us tried it. We've also checked with his friends, who are clueless as to his whereabouts." He paused as if in thought, slyly glimpsing her way to see if she was piecing it together yet. _Come on, Bella, it's not that tough. You __live__ with the master, for criminy's sake!_

"I'm going to ask the dark lord to find him," she announced suddenly, scurrying from the room, her voice trailing off as she ran. "He knows everything, he'll be able to…"

Smiling at his clever manipulation and subsequent lack of obligation to the dark lord, Lucius rocked back on his heels, arms folded over his chest to wait. He was becoming more than bored, frankly apprehensive by the time Bella returned half an hour later looking somber. Lord Voldemort followed her in, causing Lucius to drop automatically to his knees. After a quick prostration, he rose.

"I've called him, Lucius. He hasn't come," stated Voldemort in a very displeased tone. "By virtue of the fact your wands don't point him out, he may have taken leave of his senses and fled. He could be a good distance away."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I don't believe he ran away," Lucius said quietly.

"He's a loyal follower," Bella interjected, surprising Lucius with her agreement. Of course, she'd been the one to bring Regulus to the dark lord, she must defend her choice. "Master, is there a way to tell if he's injured, unable to respond?"

"No." Voldemort walked between them on his way to the throne, where he parked himself. He took out his wand, making Lucius flinch, then waved it in strange, almost seizure-like motions while mumbling something to himself. He finished to find his Death Eaters gawking at him in fascination. "There are spells you don't comprehend attached to your Dark Marks. The one I performed tells me the vitality status of a particular follower. I regret to say Regulus is dead."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The news of Regulus' death sparked more than sorrow in the Black household. His father Orion, upon hearing the grim news, succumbed to a massive heart attack so rapidly that healers were unable to save him. The deaths of both her son and husband had driven Wahlburga to the point of breakdown bordering on madness, leaving what was left of the Black family utterly distraught.

Mid-December, two weeks before Christmas, they gathered at church for the funeral of Orion and memorial for Regulus, whose body had not been found. On one side of the aisle in the front pew, Wahlburga sat sobbing inconsolably next to the coffin of her husband. Beside her was Druella, next to Bella then Rodolphus. Directly behind them sat Abraxas, Lucius, and Narcissa. Like good, proper Malfoys, the men sat emotionless, even though Narcissa knew both held affection for Regulus, and Abraxas had been good friends with Orion.

From her vantage point on the end, Narcissa had an exceptional view of her family and those on the opposite side of the aisle. She watched, feeling horribly sad yet detached and unable to cry, as Glenna came in walking beside Jack and sat down in the front row across the casket from Wahlburga. Narcissa wondered idly when Death Eater Mulciber and his wife and daughters would show up. The Mulcibers and Blacks had been family friends for generations. Her interest piqued when the Snape family came trooping in and settled into the pew right behind Glenna and Jack.

Severus, who prided himself on not showing what he was feeling, betrayed himself twice in the space of a heartbeat to Narcissa's observing eye. She noted his grief in the slump of his posture more than his face, yet when he saw Glenna, Narcissa could almost feel his heart leap. His eyes widened and his mouth opened just a touch, then he regained control and slid in beside his mother, averting his eyes from his old flame.

Narcissa felt Lucius' hand crushing her own in a show of support and love; she looked over at him and tried to smile, failing miserably. Why was it the only time they came to church was for weddings or funerals? Her father, her uncle, her cousin… and poor Lucius and Abraxas, who must be torn apart as well, not only from these recent deaths, but the remembrance of the rest: Lucius' mother, brother, sister, niece. How did they bear it?

She placed a hand over the small bulge of her abdomen to caress the unborn child. Life in the midst of death; joy in the midst of sorrow; miracle in the midst of tragedy.

In the back of the church, no one noticed a young man slink in under cover of a borrowed invisibility cloak and sit in the very back, careful not to make a sound. They didn't hear him rail silently in his mind against the youth who had no coffin, no urn, nothing except a portrait that smiled and gave a silly little salute before strolling off to play Quidditch. If the damn fool Regulus had listened to him, none of this would have happened! He'd be safe, he'd be _alive_. In spite of their animosities and differences, things could have been so much better between them. No one saw the tears for the brother he loved slipping down his cheeks to drop onto his chest.


	56. Chapter 56

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Six

_**April 1980 **_

The moment Lucius Apparated home he sensed the presence and his hand whipped his wand from his pocket. Lucius was quick; Mateo was quicker. In a blur of movement, the vampire circled the man, deftly plucking the wand from his hand, and dashed halfway across the long porch where he stood defiantly sneering at the wizard.

"I feel the love," Mateo said sarcastically, eyeing the wand as if he intended to toss it away or do some manner of harm to it. "Were you planning to kill me, Lucius?"

Although this didn't seem the ideal time for telling the truth, the words came of their own accord. "If need be, yes. I'll protect my family at all costs."

"Admirable sentiment," replied the other with grudging respect. "However, I told you before that I didn't come to hurt anyone. I only want to talk. Are you too thick to comprehend that?"

Lucius didn't move from his spot next to the door. Close as he was, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to get inside before Mateo was upon him again. "It's been what—four months since I saw you? Why _did_ you come back? To spread more lies like the one you told last time?"

"That was no lie!" Mateo snapped, eyes flashing.

It was Lucius' turn to sneer, and he did it in true Malfoy form—slowly, taunting, disparaging the other with a mere glance. "So you expect me to believe I'm descended from _you_?" He let out a mocking laugh.

If Mateo still had the capacity to blush, he would have done so, and the very notion that this wizard could make him feel small infuriated him. His lips pinched into a thin line. He could break his promise and hurt Lucius, injure him very badly; it would be so easy to make him beg for mercy, make him beg for the history he'd never been taught, rub his face in the fact that Malfoys were no more perfect than anyone else! But no, he didn't want to take that route.

Shoving down his anger, a hint of bitterness tinged his response when finally he answered, "No. You're the heir, in the line of heirs. I'm just a bastard child of your illustrious ancestor Silvanus."

For a split second Lucius' façade wavered. "That's impossible."

"Is it? Secundus is your ancestor, isn't he?" Mateo needed no confirmation, though he found it gratifying to see a spark of recognition in the grey eyes. "Odd, don't you think, that Silvanus would give his _first_ child a name meaning 'second'?"

It was a point Lucius had wondered about long ago when learning his family tree, but it meant nothing. It was a name, nothing more. "All Malfoys, male and female, make an Unbreakable Vow of fidelity when they marry. Silvanus couldn't have cheated."

"But he could've seduced my mother beforehand, couldn't he?"

Lucius paused, not liking the direction this was heading in. "Theoretically," he admitted.

Mateo gave a smirk. He'd won the first round. "I'm here, I'd say that's more than theoretical."

"You have no proof of any of these assertions."

"I have this, given to my mother by my father." Mateo reached up and unclasped from around his neck a fine gold chain that had been hidden inside his T-shirt. A delicate pendant in the shape of a squirming serpent with emerald eyes hung down. "Shall I read you the inscription on the back?"

"I can read," Lucius snapped, holding out an impatient hand.

Mateo glided forward and dropped the jewelry into his upturned palm. Lucius examined it closely using the porch light hung over the door, then turned it over to read _To my precious Esperanza, Love, Silvanus M._

He felt like he'd been hit in the gut full force. There was no denying the symbolism of the Slytherin snake, customarily given to a betrothed or a wife; Lucius himself had once given Narcissa a pair of earrings not so different from this necklace. His practiced eye noted the style of lettering, the decoration of the snake's body, and he guessed them to be dated somewhere around the mid-1600's. This was obviously not a recent work.

"When Silvanus was eighteen he came to Spain with his family, on vacation I suppose, I don't really know. The Malfoys owned a villa outside the town where my mother lived, and she went there to work as a Spanish tutor for the younger children," Mateo explained, relishing the expression of bewilderment on Lucius' face. "Being half British herself, she spoke fluent English in addition to Spanish, which is how I learned, naturally."

"So… how did…" Lucius couldn't bring himself to ask.

"The family stayed in Spain for several months. As one would expect, my mother had contact with Silvanus as well as with his siblings. Sorry to disappoint, she didn't go into details," Mateo noted dryly. "Suffice it to say when Silvanus' father got wind of his affair with a lowly halfblood, he dragged his son back to Britain and married him off."

"You never knew him, then."

"I never even met him."

Lucius held out the necklace to him, feeling the chill of the vampire's flesh as Mateo's fingers brushed his hand. "I'm not sure what to say. It's not Malfoy tradition to have bas—children out of wedlock and then abandon them. It's shameful. We're not brought up that way."

"Yes, I realize I'm a blight on your perfect family," Mateo growled as he refastened the chain around his neck.

"No, you misunderstand…Mateo." It felt odd somehow to say the name. "It was shameful of Silvanus to carry on before marriage; we're taught to be chaste." Remembering how dearly he had desired to break that chastity with Narcissa, he flushed, thankful the dimness hid his embarrassment. "But to abandon one's child is wholly unacceptable under any circumstance. Did he know your mother was pregnant?"

Mateo nodded. "She had told him. She said he was happy…and afraid."

_Afraid of his parents finding out, no doubt_, Lucius mused. His fear wasn't unfounded. Malfoy fathers were renowned for being strict to the point of cruelty, as he could attest himself, and Abraxas tended to be more lenient than many. Yet if Silvanus' father had known, in all likelihood he would have taken steps to procure the baby, or at least to care for him. It was the proper thing to do, and Malfoys were nothing if not infuriatingly _proper_.

"Your father failed spectacularly in his duty as a parent. I apologize on his behalf."

Stunned, Mateo gaped at him. _That_ was utterly unexpected—an _apology_! It made him feel, if not all warm and fuzzy, a lot less resentful. "Well, he didn't completely fail. When I was fourteen, a man came to our town looking for my mother, demanding to see me. He asked us loads of questions—if I was a wizard, what I like to do, stuff like that—and he wrote down everything I said. He kept giving me the strangest looks, then he handed my mother a rather large sack of galleons and left."

"If I recall family history, and I do, Silvanus' parents died in 1668 when a wave of epidemics spread across the land. If you were born—"

"I was born in the year of our Lord 1654. In 1668 I was fourteen." Mateo understood where this was going. "Silvanus waited until his parents were dead, then sent someone to look for me."

Lucius nodded. "Too bad he wasn't brave enough to do so earlier. Or to claim you when he found you."

"Probably afraid it would ruin his reputation to bring his bastard to live with him. He had a legitimate family, after all." Mateo gave a shrug. It had all been so long ago, did it really matter now? "You know, that's the only fond memory I have of your ancestor, and he wasn't even in it. How pathetic is that?"

A grin Lucius tried to suppress flickered across his countenance. "Pretty pathetic."

The vampire burst out laughing in a deep, melodic roll. "I like you, Lucius! And you know something else? If my mother had been pureblood, my father would have married _her_ and _I_ would've been the heir. You would've been my descendant. Isn't life peculiar?"

"Technically, I never would've existed, Mateo," Lucius replied, still grinning. "It would've changed the whole genetic template…." He stopped when he noticed the vampire's quizzical look. "I presume you haven't studied that kind of thing."

Mateo shrugged again as he drew Lucius' wand from the back pocket of his jeans where he'd tucked it, and held it out to the other. "I trust you don't still want to kill me."

Lucius' laughter joined his. "I suppose not." He accepted the wand with a light inclination of his head, slipped it into his robe pocket, and opened the door. "Wait here. _Accio_ Silvanus portrait."

A few moments later a life sized painted bust flew through the air and Lucius caught the heavy frame in both hands. Closing the door, he walked over and set the portrait across the arms of one of the porch chairs. Enthralled at seeing his sire for the first time, Mateo edged up close, reached out, and touched the painting's hair, which although long and held back with a band, was the precise shade of golden blond as his son's.

"Keep your hands to yourself," said the man in the portrait haughtily.

Mateo jumped, startled. "I forgot they move and talk," he said sheepishly.

"Lucius Malfoy, what do you mean bringing me out here? Take me back this instant!"

"Silvanus, this is Mateo. Your son."

Silvanus' blue eyes grew wide in astonishment as he gaped at the young men, then he barked, "That's a lie! He's been dead for hundreds of years."

"I should've been," Mateo concurred, unable to tear his eyes away.

The Malfoy in the portrait, who looked to be forty-something, glared back at him until a sudden gleam of recognition struck. His face lost its expression of indignation; he stretched out a trembling hand as if to reach beyond the confines of his frame. "I see your mother in you," he said, his voice softening.

"She always said she saw _you_ in me," Mateo answered.

"That, too," agreed Silvanus, staring at his son in awe. His voice cracked ever so slightly as he said, "I never thought I'd get to see you."

Feeling like an intruder now, Lucius cleared his throat. "Perhaps I'll leave you alone to become acquainted. I'll send an elf out to collect the portrait when you're gone." He opened the door once more, but before going in he asked, "Will I see you again, Mateo?"

"I'd like that," responded the vampire. He lifted his eyes from his father with some difficulty. "Thank you for letting me meet him."

Lucius smiled and nodded, closing the door behind him.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas fairly ran up the staircase when he spied his daughter-in-law struggling up the last few steps. He took her arm and helped her the rest of the way. "Narcissa, are you feeling well?"

"If feeling like a bloated whale is well, then I'm just dandy," she returned moodily, her voice increasing in pitch as she went on. "And I'm only seven months pregnant! By nine months I won't be able to fit on the stairs, you'll need to put a bed down in a parlor for me!"

Abraxas draped an arm around her admittedly thick waist to guide her down the hallway. "You look beautiful, Narcissa. Hasn't Lucius told you so?"

"Yes," she said sulkily. "But he's only saying it to make me feel better. He thinks I'm a cow."

"He thinks no such thing." Abraxas conjured a padded bench and pulled her over to it, settling her before seating himself. He looked her in the eye as he said, "Lucius loves you with all his heart. If you were morbidly obese, bald, and toothless, he'd still love you."

Horrified at the very prospect, she gasped, "Why would he? I'd be hideous!"

"You'd still be you," the man answered quietly. "That would be enough."

"How do you know?"

"Because that's how I felt about Lucius' mother," he said with a shrug. "When my wife was pregnant, I thought she was utterly captivating. I'd have thought so no matter what she looked like. My son isn't so different from me, for better or worse."

Narcissa beheld the sadness shining in the man's eyes, and she took one of his hands between hers. It was the same size, with the same sense of strength as her husband's hands. "He's very much like you, and I understand more all the time how lucky I am for that."

Abraxas smiled at her, and she saw once again a handsome vision of her husband in twenty-six years. With a light gesture at her protruding abdomen, he commented, "It's cumbersome and irritating at times, but once the baby comes you won't regret any of it…well, maybe the morning sickness. And the labor."

She laughed before growing pensive. "Abraxas, I'm… I can't bring this up to Lucius…"

"What is it?" he asked, growing concerned.

"What if it's a girl? I can't bear him any more children, and he'll be so disappointed not to have an heir." Tears had sprung to her eyes.

"Need I remind you that Lucius loves you? Any child will make him happy, Narcissa. Remember how he loved Niki?"

She nodded. He'd loved his niece with a ferocity she'd never seen in him with anyone else…except herself. "Yes, he'd love our daughter, but—"

"Who says a girl can't be an heir?" Abraxas interrupted. "It will be Lucius' fortune to pass on to whomever he wishes. She'll simply have to keep her name when she marries, and pass on 'Malfoy' to her children. Honestly, the Malfoy name carries such clout I wouldn't doubt her husband would change _his_ surname."

Narcissa laughed again, yet in truth the man had a point. There were plenty of wizards who'd be willing to cast off their family names in favor of the Malfoy moniker, leaving any children to bear the Malfoy name as well as blood. "I hope you're right. Lucius is so traditional."

"Don't you worry, Narcissa. Boy or girl, this child is the Malfoy heir." Just to be on the safe side, lest his son contradict him or say something idiotic that inadvertently hurt Narcissa, he'd better have a talk with the young man. He couldn't really blame Lucius for his occasional lapse into thoughtlessness, he supposed, since his mother died when he was only two; he'd never had the chance to see how a loving couple should interact, what they should say—and NOT say. All in all though, he was proud of Lucius, proud of his splendid choice of a bride, proud of the love his son heaped on the young woman. There was no reason to worry, this baby would be in good hands.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Jack was nowhere in sight when Severus brought Jacinta home. He was glancing around, sure Mulciber was lurking someplace nearby, when Glenna came rushing in smiling. Before she even spoke to Snape she took the baby and kissed her all over her face as Jacinta giggled hysterically.

"Hi, Severus. You're back a little early."

"That's because I need to discuss something with you," he answered. He leaned over to give a final kiss to his daughter.

"Let me give Jacinta to her fa—to Jack and I'll be right back." With an abashed look she fled the room.

Severus glared after her. Jacinta's father? He had an urge to punch Jack in the nose on general principles. Yes, he realized everyone assumed Mulciber to be her father, and it was an act that had to be kept up, but he didn't like hearing it. Glenna was gone only a minute, verifying his suspicion that Jack had been hovering close by.

"Okay, what did you need to talk about? Is everything alright with Jacinta?"

"Yes, she's fine. Her birthday is coming up in less than a month and I'd like to take her," he stated, bracing himself for the inevitable reaction.

"No! How could you even ask that?"

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "Maybe because half of her DNA is from _me_."

Becoming conciliatory, Glenna got a pained expression. "Severus, I can't. It would look suspicious for her not to be here on her first birthday. We're having a party, for heaven's sake! You'll see her there."

"As Zeb," he responded bitterly. "What about my family? They'd like to be with her, too. Mulciber's family gets to see her whenever they like. Jack spends way too much time with her."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but Jack is an excellent father to her—"

"And I'm not?"

"I didn't say that! Would you prefer he ignored her or was awful to her?" she shouted, her green eyes engendering a dangerous look. "He doesn't have to love her, but he does! You should be grateful."

Having seen Glenna angry in the past, Severus knew better than to proceed with the argument. It was futile, potentially hazardous, and she wasn't without a point, Jack _was_ very good to Jacinta. It was better to have his ex-friend be attentive to his little girl than to have to kill him for mistreating her, which come hell or high water he'd do if it came down to it.

Hesitating, but determined to come out with it, he said, "It shouldn't be like this, Glenna. _We_ shouldn't be like this." He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching up to brush her hair, his meaning becoming very clear.

"Severus, don't. I'm married, I love Jack."

"As much as you loved me?" he murmured.

"I said _don't_!" she cried, pushing him hard in the chest with both hands. "You had your chance, I _can't do this_!" Tears hung ready to fall from her eyes.

Still he persisted. "You never gave me a chance. You didn't tell me you were pregnant."

The lioness in her came roaring out, driving Severus back another step. "Don't you dare act innocent in this whole thing! You didn't want to marry me _without_ a baby, why on Earth would I think you'd want me _with_ one?"

Because he feared she might physically attack him—and short of holding her at bay he refused to lift a hand against her; because she looked so upset, angry, and hurt; because she was right, he hadn't made any effort to let her know how he felt when it would have made a difference, he shook his head as he studied the floor.

"I'm sorry, Glenna. I won't bring it up again."

For several agonizing moments there was no answer, then she said quietly, "We need to remain friends for Jacinta's sake. Please don't ruin it."

"I won't," he whispered, feeling like a total ass. In his ignorance he'd believed that his affections for Glenna would dissipate, and they had somewhat when she was pregnant and he never saw her. Being face to face on a regular basis was torture, pure and simple, yet he'd brought it on himself, hadn't he? He deserved it, and he had no right to make her feel guilty or torn. If he could endure the torments meted out by Lord Voldemort, surely he could learn to live with this in silence.

"You can take Jacinta in the morning on her birthday," she said. "We'll have the party in the afternoon. Will that work out?"

He nodded. How badly he desired to reach out to her, only he couldn't, not now, not ever. Just one more emotion he must crush into a helpless puddle at the back of his mind where it couldn't hurt him. There was so much pain in his life that ended up suppressed and hidden away…

"Thank you, that'll be fine." He edged back into the fireplace, waved, and floo'd home.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was the middle of the night. The twins were asleep when Severus crept out of bed, yanked on his trousers, and stumbled through the dark into the living room to be alone. Had it not been so chilly outside, he'd have taken that route. As it was, he flopped onto the couch, his mind replaying and punishing him about the earlier conversation with Glenna as it had all evening, refusing to let him rest.

What was wrong with him? Glenna hadn't given him the slightest encouragement or sign that she wanted him back. He'd acted like a complete fool and almost endangered their relationship, tenuous as it was, in the process. He shook his head morosely. He was clueless and stupid like he'd been all his life, _that_ was his problem!

Picking up the remote, he flipped on the television, turning the volume down low. There was nothing good on; boring talk shows, silly re-runs of game shows. It made him smile sadly; Regulus would have been enthralled no matter what the subject, no matter how silly. And yet, despite his seeming innocence and naivete, he instinctively understood things about life and relationships, he cared about people. Severus could've talked to him about anything, for which he now berated himself for not taking advantage of that gift, for shoving it aside, for not listening to the advice Regulus had given him on various occasions. At times Reg might have been deliberately annoying, yet he was also funny and kind, the whole Snape family loved him—something Severus wouldn't admit to even under torture from the dark lord himself.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt the tears from his cheeks splashing onto his bare chest. He hadn't wept at the funeral, he hadn't wept in these months after, and here he was bawling over his friend because of a sodding TV program! A chuckle at the incongruity, the _ridiculousness_ of it, forced its way out, and he found himself laughing and crying at the same time.

"What happened to you, you little jerk?" Severus growled, wiping at his eyes.

His only answer came in the form of a laugh track on the TV.


	57. Chapter 57

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Seven

Mateo was happy for the first time in a very long time. Not that he'd been _unhappy_, per se, prior to speaking to Lucius and meeting his father, but he'd felt unsettled, incomplete. This one meeting had laid to rest a plethora of questions and doubts he'd harbored for centuries, had reassured him that he hadn't been unwanted or unloved by his sire. On the contrary, Silvanus had apologized for his cowardice in not standing up for the woman he truly loved, for not taking responsibility for his son, for bowing to pureblood tradition. Silvanus hadn't even flinched when Mateo confessed that he'd been a vampire since the age of twenty-five. Yes, this had been a joyful, productive trip.

He glided across the field where the burned out mansion sat looking forbidding and forlorn, on his way to the woods. Dawn was fast approaching, he didn't have much time to spare. He couldn't wait to see Tonia and tell her all about it, she'd be so thrilled for him!

"_Ayudame_!(help me)" screamed a voice below him.

Mateo circled back and looked down. Staked to the chimney ruins by heavy chains on hand and foot lay a _sangrista_ struggling against his bonds as he cried out. A quick sniff search revealed no other _sangristas_ nearby, nor did he detect any humans. Drifting downward, he landed softly beside the thrashing vampire, whom he recognized from one of the towns in the west part of their territory.

"Help me, Mateo! Daylight's coming!" the man pleaded.

"Who put you here, Porfirio?"

"Humans. They found out what I am, they wanted to make a lesson for all of you." He rattled his chains violently. "Let me go!"

Mateo hesitated. Humans were capable of this, no doubt…but so was Yadiro. How could he know for sure? To date he'd never witnessed a staking, he didn't think Yadiro had ever done so. He didn't have time to get to the underground mansion and back before Porfirio burned and turned to ash in the sun's weakest rays. In a rushed decision, he reached down and, heaving hard with both hands and putting in his whole weight, yanked first one chain holding the vampire to the chimney right out of the brick, then the other.

"Come on, we can get those off you in—" He didn't have a chance to finish.

The other _sangrista_ shot into the air, chains still dangling from his wrist and ankle, and rapidly disappeared. Mateo made haste into the woods, barely managing to hustle inside before the sun broke over the horizon. Heaving a relieved breath, he clomped down the stairs suddenly feeling the tiredness from his long flight.

Veronica and a young man servant came hurrying in seeming more disheveled than they ought, in his opinion. He had his suspicions about the goings-on among the servants, which he considered none of his business, but if one of them turned up pregnant, there'd be hell to pay from Yadiro. _Sangristas_, while capable of performing the act, weren't able to impregnate a woman—nor to become impregnated if female. If a child was conceived, there could be no question that a human was responsible.

"Where's Yadiro?" he asked wearily.

"In his room," answered Veronica, pointing. "He's been brooding for hours."

Brooding. That wasn't good. Mateo navigated down the long hallway, took a left, and stopped at the heavy oak double doors. He knocked lightly. "Diro, it's Mateo."

"Come in."

Buitrago was sitting on his bed, head down, looking troubled. Mateo rarely saw him like this; he found it disconcerting. He approached to kiss the lead vampire's hand, as was custom, then stood looking down at him.

"What's wrong, Diro?"

"Porfirio. He tried to bring a girl into the fold against my express command, and the fool ended up killing her. The humans in his town are in an uproar. Some are even suggesting a vampire is to blame."

Mateo took a few steps back, his light blue eyes widening, finding it hard to swallow. _Shitshitshitshitshit!_ Why didn't he listen to his gut! "Um, I saw Porfirio at the ruins…"

"He knows there's a delicate balance between us and them," Buitrago went on, not noticing his friend's discomfort. "The human population can only sustain a certain number of us before it becomes cumbersome, before they rebel. His death will serve as an example to any other _sangrista_ contemplating creating another of us."

Plain and simple, you do not make more vampires without the express permission of the leader, which was almost impossible to obtain. Yadiro frowned on 'makers' as pariahs interested only in themselves and their selfish desires. It was the same speech he gave to every vampire wishing to join the cult, to enjoy the benefits of community and protection: when one accepted Yadiro's protection, one accepted his rules. No exceptions.

Mateo by now had backed up so far he was flat against the doors. His attempt at a smile came off as weak and sick. "Something happened that, uh, unfortunately isn't going to please you." Yadiro raised his head to look at Mateo, who tried to move further back, only to bump his head on the wood. "Porfirio told me humans tied him there, and the sun was coming, there wasn't time—"

"You didn't!" Yadiro thundered, jumping to his feet. "_You let him go!?_"

"I didn't know, I swear! I tried to bring him here, but he flew away." _Damn door, where's that handle?_ His hand fidgeted wildly behind him in search of the way out.

A mere second later, Buitrago was upon him, inches away bearing down, staring with a furious intensity. Mateo steeled himself, resigned to his fate; the waiting to be hit was almost as bad as the beating itself. Then, completely unexpectedly, Yadiro stepped away.

"You shouldn't have let him go," he growled, pacing over to the bureau and whirling around.

"I know that now," Mateo conceded, not moving from his spot. "He can't have gotten very far. I barely made it here before the sun rose, he must've taken refuge somewhere close by, too."

Yadiro nodded, deep in thought. It wasn't totally Mateo's fault, he hadn't been there to hear the crime and the sentence. There'd been a sentinel posted, who'd evidently left to come inside only minutes before Mateo showed up and got conned into believing Porfirio.

Yadiro shook his head as he stroked his goatee. Sometimes he wondered how a _sangrista_ as trusting as Mateo managed to survive this long. Most humans who were changed didn't live long as vampires; they starved, were killed by family members, or committed suicide by sitting out in the daylight. Any of these was a terrible fate, and could be prevented by joining the cult, learning the ways of survival—the reasons _for_ survival. Mateo was smart even if he was too compassionate for his own good. He'd learned quickly when Yadiro found him wandering the countryside, and though neither had chosen this life, they'd become adept at living it.

"At the break of dusk all of us except the sentinels will search," said Yadiro, formulating a plan as he spoke. "We'll go in pairs in each direction, search until we find him. Justice must be administered." _If my authority is to stand._

Mateo bobbed his head in agreement. "Maybe we should send out the servants to spread the word to our fold. They can brave the sun and wait outside known haunts, get more _sangristas_ to aid us."

"Good idea. I'll speak to them shortly."

"I'm sorry, Diro. I didn't mean to cause any problem."

"I know. But from now on, don't be so damned gullible." Yadiro lay down on his back and propped his head on his hands, beckoning Mateo over to sit at the foot of the bed. "Tell me about your trip to Britain."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

If there was anything worse than an open meeting of the Governing Board, Lucius would like to hear it. Scratch that. He could list a minimum of fifty things worse by far, but that was beside the point. He found it patently absurd to be made to conduct business in the public eye, doubly so when that public was given the right to voice their vulgar opinions to the Board as if they actually _mattered_.

Sitting at the middle of the table beside Chairperson Newcastle, the rest of the governors spread to left and right, Lucius faced a roomful of primarily parents of children at Hogwarts. Sadly, most of them looked to be beggars; he could only presume they weren't upstanding purebloods, who knew how to conduct business: if a favor was requested, it was asked for in person or owled over, with an appropriate fee attached. These plebeians probably didn't have two galleons to rub together, let alone a sufficient amount to pay for the time it took to hear them prattling on about adding new classes, or extending holidays, or granting more handouts.

Lucius rested his forehead on one hand, his fingers pressing into his throbbing temple. If he had to listen to one more nitwit touting the glory of extended hours, he'd throw up. Or kill himself. Or kill them…yes, that was definitely a better choice.

"Mr. Malfoy? Are you alright?" asked Lorraine Newcastle in a whisper.

"Headache," he whispered back. He raised his eyes as the next parent rose to speak and he barely stifled a groan.

Arthur Weasley stood up in front of his chair, though a quick scan of the crowd revealed none of his dozens of children or his wife, whom Lucius postulated must be home tending to the redheaded troop, likely including one or two new additions if things held true to the past.

"Governors, I've spoken briefly to Mr. Malfoy about this before, and I still believe it's not only relevant, but would be an asset for our children. I propose classes for children before they go to Hogwarts—or better yet, have students begin at the age of ten instead of eleven. It could only turn out more proficient wizards and witches if they're given an extra year of study." Arthur took a deep breath and waited for the response.

Murmuring in the crowd voiced an agreement, with a few parents looking blatantly blindsided. One woman spoke up, "I don't want to send my children off a year early."

Lorraine Newcastle tapped her gavel very lightly on the table. "While the desire to educate one's children is admirable, seven years has worked out quite well all these centuries. I don't detect any lacking in our present students."

"I'm not implying they're deficient," Arthur replied. "But the world is a changing place, we need to change with it. Higher education would prepare them for a more complex world."

"The wizarding world hasn't changed much in over a hundred years," Kidus Chapman said. "I don't see the necessity for the Board to spend all that money for an extra year. We have a difficult enough time collecting sufficient funds as it is." He glanced over at Lucius and grinned. "Without Malfoy's help, this year might have fallen flat."

Lucius smiled tightly. He'd been hoping to avoid involvement in this discussion. However, now that he'd been singled out, he ought to do his part. "Arthur, I empathize with you; surely it's not easy to raise a _sizable_ family on your salary, we can all understand your desire to ship the tots off early. Who, may I ask, would instruct the children? Our professors are stretched to the limits as it is—why, standards have become so abysmal the Headmaster has allowed incompetent teachers in the classrooms."

Every ear in the place perked up at this, wondering who Malfoy meant.

Playing to the crowd while focusing on Weasley, Lucius spread his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. "Unlike Durmstrang, which refuses to admit riffraff—let alone permit them to teach—we've sunk to allowing such people unwise in the customs of wizardry, raised by barbarians, to influence our children. I, for one, do not want my child tainted by such association. If anything, we should be working to cleanse the teaching ranks of these dregs."

Bristling in his near-Muggle suit, Arthur's face went as red as his hair. "And exactly what do you mean by riffraff and dregs, Lucius?"

With an exasperated expression, Lucius shot back, "I think we both know what I mean."

"Muggleborns, is it?" asked Weasley, face set in a disgusted pout. "Your bias dictates your sympathies. What right have you to decide who's fit to teach?"

Lucius smirked ever so slightly and intoned in a slow drawl, "I'm a _governor_. That's part of my job. Why am I being made out the villain here? The true villains are the incompetent 'wizards' we hire to imbue our children with knowledge. Lord knows, Arthur, with that army of yours, you might hope for decent teachers."

Lorraine smacked her gavel again on the table, louder this time, effectively ending the conversation. "I believe I speak for all the governors when I say your idea really isn't feasible, Mr.—"

"Weasley."

"Mr. Weasley. Thank you all for participating. We will be discussing these topics in closed quarters. It's past our time, I call this assembly to a close." _Bang_ went the gavel.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius Apparated home, glad to be away from that insipid meeting. The moment he walked into the house, he wished he were _back_ at the meeting. In the parlor off to the right of the foyer he heard the sounds of women chattering and it all came back in a rush—Narcissa's baby shower! If he sneaked by without being noticed…

"Master Lucius, can Dobby take master's cloak?" inquired the elf, tugging at the hem of Lucius' robe.

"Get away from me!" he hissed, wrenching off his cloak and flinging it against the wall. "Hang that up."

The patter of feet headed his way stopped him in his tracks. "Lucius, you made it!" smiled Narcissa, planting a peck on his mouth. "I knew you wouldn't forget." She kissed him again, deeply, sensuously.

He took her in his arms, wholeheartedly returning her affection, feeling a strong desire welling up in him. One hand rubbed over her abdomen, gently massaging the life within. The silly woman had been convinced he thought of her as a cow; how could he see her as anything other than the lovely girl he'd married, who now carried a wonderful little Malfoy baby inside her? Instinctively he pressed himself to her, moaning softly. "Let's go upstairs."

"I can't, dear, I'm having a baby shower," she laughed, taking his hand and leading him along before he had time to struggle or think of a quick exit. "Look, everyone, Lucius is joining us!"

He felt the color rise in his cheeks at the roomful of ladies clapping for him. Evidently men didn't make a habit of appearing at these functions, which Narcissa had neglected to tell him. He'd _assumed_ other women would bring their husbands when Narcissa had cajoled him into coming. When he saw Bellatrix lounging on a sofa, staring at him with a half-sneer, he knew he was going to regret this.

"Ah, brother-in-law, how…_henpecked_ of you to come," Bella smiled, batting her eyelashes at him. "We were just getting ready to open presents. Why don't you open this one?" She tossed him a wrapped package, which he caught.

"I do believe my wife is the one who does the honors," he retorted, handing it to Narcissa, who'd plunked herself down and patted for Lucius to sit beside her. He sat, noting the adoring looks of some of the women.

Narcissa opened the gift and smiled over at her sister. "Thanks, Bella, these will really come in handy."

Lucius studied the box, not quite understanding. "What is it?" he asked.

"Breast pads," announced Bella loudly. "Cissy will put them in her bra to keep the milk from leaking all over her robes." She grinned wickedly at the red flush in the man's face, which deepened when a few of the women tittered.

"How very uncharacteristically thoughtful of you, Bellatrix," he responded, gathering his wits about him. Apparently he'd need them. Yes, this promised to be almost as much fun as one of Lord Voldemort's torture sessions.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

When Severus showed up for work, the last person he expected to find chatting with Philana was Albus Dumbledore. He halted in the doorway, startled, then eased into the room. The other two looked over at his with casual greetings.

"Headmaster, I'm surprised to see you here," Severus confessed.

"Philana and I are old friends. How are you, Severus?"

"Fine thank you." It had been almost two years since he'd started working here, he'd tried to push Hogwarts out of his mind. "I never properly thanked you for recommending me, sir."

"You're quite welcome, Severus. Philana tells me you're the best employee she's ever had."

"I do my best," mumbled the youth, smiling over at the woman.

"Severus, when you're through talking to Albus, I've got a potion for you to brew," said Philana, heading into the back room. "I'll see you, Albus!"

"Yes, indeed," answered the old wizard with a wave. Then, to Snape's utter shock, he blew a purple bubble with the gum he was chewing. It grew larger and larger until the lad was certain it must pop all over that long beard, it encompassed the full area of his face. However, Dumbledore sucked it back inside, giving a little laugh. "Didn't think a fogy my age could do that, did you?"

Was this a trick question? "No, sir. I mean, you're not a fogy…and I didn't think so. How are things at Hogwarts?"

"Excellent. Although I fear, as usual, we may need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher next year." Albus sighed, shaking his head.

"Again?" Severus asked. "There seems to be a new professor every year for that class."

"Yes, well it appears this professor has developed an aversion to pixies. And boggarts… and unicorns," Dumbledore lamented, shaking his head again so his beard swished back and forth across his chest.

"That's too bad," Snape sympathized.

"Ah, well, I must let you get to work. Take care of yourself, Severus."

"Thank you, sir. You, too." Dumbledore's robes hadn't completely swirled out the door before a crafty idea struck Severus. After work he had a visit to make.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Yes, my lord, Dumbledore told me himself that he needs a new teacher," Snape declared, bursting with pride at being useful once more. He stood before the master, maskless, hoping only for praise. He got more than he bargained for.

"This is marvelous news, Severus," Voldemort said, drawing back his lips in a cruel smile. "You have a renewed opportunity to spy on the old coot for me, perhaps even gain me new recruits."

Severus merely stared at him, blinking in confusion. Had he missed something? "My lord?"

"Apply for the job, Severus," Voldemort explained wearily. Honestly, this was one of his brightest Death Eaters, and he had to spoon feed him like a baby! "And make sure you obtain the position!"

"Me?" asked the young man incredulously. "You want _me_ to be a teacher?"

"Do you have a problem with obeying me?"

"No, master!" He ducked his head, expecting a reprisal. When it didn't come, he ventured, "I just thought you'd want to send someone older, more experienced, someone who, uh… likes children."

"You'll learn to like them. Either that or you'll learn how to make them fear you so they keep their distance," cooed the dark lord in that honey silk voice that foretold doom to come.

"As you command, my lord," said Severus, bowing. "I don't expect Dumbledore will be interviewing until school is out for the summer. I'll find out when."

"See that you do. Once you're a professor at Hogwarts, Lucius will be in a better position as well, will have a better excuse to come and go—visiting a friend, of course." Voldemort smiled again. Things were finally falling into place. He felt almost as happy as during one of his torture sessions.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, the vampires came out in search of the escaped outlaw Porfirio. Because he hadn't the chance to go far, his freedom was short-lived. Within hours he'd been apprehended and brought back to the destroyed mansion. A piercing cry too high for human ears rang out from the three vigilantes, notifying the rest that the search was over. Those who heard it, in turn, echoed the cry into the night, at last bringing Buitrago back to the agreed upon location.

Mateo was already present along with a group of thirty or so when Yadiro arrived. He noted the three holding the still-struggling Porfirio, whose pleas fell on deaf ears. Yadiro stalked over to glare at the _sangrista_, then addressed the captors with a formal, stiff bow.

"Good job, Eloy, Marisol, Santos. When you need a favor, I am at your disposal." The three smiled proudly at the acknowledgement. To the other vampire, he turned a cold visage. "You escaped your destiny for one day, Porfirio. Now you will die as ordained by our laws."

"Yadiro, please, have mercy! I didn't mean to kill her!"

"But you did," growled Buitrago, eyes narrowing, impassive face becoming frighteningly cold. "Now the humans are worked up against us, all because of you. They might begin hunting us. I forbid you to turn that girl, but you went behind my back, and look what you caused!"

Ignoring further entreaties, Yadiro wheeled, catching sight of his best friend. "Mateo, you let him go. I'll give you the honor of staking him."

Mateo's stomach gave a funny leap. _Honor_? "Diro, may I speak with you in private?"

Together they walked off far enough away to make it difficult for the others to eavesdrop. Speaking in a low voice, Mateo began, "Yes, I freed him because he tricked me, but you're the leader. Direct punishment comes from you."

"I'm giving you the chance to redeem yourself, Mateo."

"I don't want to kill him!" hissed the younger vampire. "It's not my job."

"It wasn't your job to liberate him, either!" Yadiro shot back.

"You've killed _sangristas_ before. Why don't you just break his neck quickly and decapitate him? Why do you have to make him suffer for hours until daylight, only to burn to death in the sun?"

"That's why—to make him suffer," explained Yadiro, giving his friend an odd look. "He knew the rules, he chose to break them. This example keeps the rest in line so they don't do something stupid like follow his lead and jeopardize all of us as he did." His piercing gaze bit into Mateo's eyes. "What's wrong with you? You used to understand the necessity of discipline and rules. Is hanging around with your human relative making you soft?"

"What's he got to do with it?" demanded Mateo.

"I don't know. What I _do_ know is you wouldn't have scorned my authority a year ago, or even six months ago. Now I give an order to uphold our laws and you tell me 'no'!" He'd drawn back his lips into a snarl, exposing his fangs.

Mateo shook his head, sighing. "I didn't say no. I said I don't want to."

Yadiro shrugged. "Is there a difference? You haven't broken any laws; if you don't wish to abide by them any longer, you're free to leave the cult. If you choose to stay, our laws apply and you obey me."

For a split second Mateo considered leaving the cult. How dare Yadiro blackmail him that way—my way or leave! Yet Tonia was here; if he left, he might never see her again, he'd be unwelcome in the territory. A _sangrista_ out on his own was in far more danger than one under the protection of a strong cult like this one. And, in spite of it all, Diro had been his best friend for centuries, they'd been through so much together. He realized Yadiro was only doing this to punish him for his idiocy, to insure he didn't repeat it, yet for the first time in his life as a vampire, Mateo bitterly resented his powerlessness in this friendship.

"Fine!" he muttered, stalking over to Porfirio. With the help of those holding him, Mateo deliberately blocked out the screams and begging as he staked the vampire against the chimney, pounding the chain anchor into the brick the way he'd found it. Then, without a word, he flew off into the night.


	58. Chapter 58

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Eight

Tonia hadn't been present at the staking of Porfirio, but she'd heard about it soon enough. For miles around it encompassed the talk of the night. Mateo had been the one to do it, they said—on Buitrago's orders…and then he'd left. No one knew where. She felt a rush of sickness through her stomach, a sensation foreign to her for many years. Standing outside the leader's quarters, another wave of this nausea lapped over her.

"Yes, Tonia, what is it?" Yadiro glanced up from an ancient book he'd been studying by candlelight.

"You told him to do it," she said in a low tone, approaching him slowly.

"Could you be more precise?"

"Mateo! You made him stake Porfirio. Why would you do that? You know how he is!" Tonia uttered in a choked voice, tears moistening the corners of her eyes.

Buitrago closed the book, pushed back his chair, and turned in her direction. "Yes, I do—softhearted, prone to acting out like a child."

"He doesn't like to kill—that's not a bad thing!"

The leader cast a gaze on her that she couldn't discern as either pitying or disapproving, though she was certain it was one or the other. Firmly he said, "Our ordinances aren't arbitrary, they're to make our lives better. Rules mean nothing if we don't follow them. They must be upheld to keep chaos at bay or our cult will be no better than the one you came from. You remember it, I'm sure."

Tonia hesitated at the mention of her old community, so like most cults that existed. It was quite small, on the southern coast of Spain, run by a tyrant who abused his charges, especially the females, as he pleased. His rules were transient, nonsensical, often made up on the spot; he'd murdered followers for petty reasons. It was a typical, quarrelsome cult, oftentimes frightening, and she'd been grateful to leave and be accepted here.

Yadiro, while often necessarily harsh, was kind in comparison, he protected those in his charge from outsiders and internal feuds alike. She'd never have dared speak to the tyrant as she was speaking to Yadiro, who seemed wholly unprovoked by her hostile attitude. Even if she didn't agree with everything he did, she realized it was indeed for the good of their community. His concern for his _sangristas_ was palpable.

"I understand our laws are for everyone's benefit," Tonia conceded. "But you're our leader, you should've been the one to carry out the sentence. Mateo must be terribly upset, he may never come back!" Another bout of annoying tears shot to her eyes and she wiped them roughly away.

"Don't get hysterical, Tonia. He'll be back when he gets over his tantrum."

"Stop saying that! He has every right to be angry," she growled.

"Perhaps," said Yadiro, shrugging and turning back to open his book. His seeming indifference infuriated the woman.

"You don't even care!" she spat. "Well, I do. I'm going to find him." She wheeled to flounce out.

"You're free to do as you please," he responded stoically, head bent over his studies. "But if you think I don't care about Mateo, you're wrong. The fact that I love him as a brother doesn't allow me to make exceptions for him. I would've treated any of you the same."

He didn't even look up when she left.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The first night after fleeing from what he'd been forced to do, Mateo had wandered around aimlessly in the Spanish countryside. He wasn't merely upset and sickened by being the instrument of Porfirio's death, deserved as it was; he was outraged, incensed that Yadiro would pull rank on him that way. Diro had, for all intents and purposes, said to do things his way or get out! They were _friends_—he thought! What kind of friendship gives one member such clout over the other? Yes, as the leader Yadiro commanded respect on that point alone, but if brotherhood meant nothing, what good was it?

He'd spent the following day hiding in a ramshackle stone cottage in the middle of nowhere where at least he'd be safe from discovery by humans. By nightfall, he'd worked himself into quite a state. So Diro wanted him to abide by the rules, did he? Screw the rules! He'd been an obedient lackey long enough and all it got him was a burning chest full of rage.

Midnight found him in a club at the nearest town, guided by the music he heard from half a kilometer away. He wasn't in the mood to dance, he was out for blood…forbidden blood, the best kind. _Sangristas_ of his cult were permitted access to the servants and to those who willingly gave themselves. It made sense to observe this simple dictate. _Well, not tonight_, Mateo sneered. Although he required only an insignificant amount to keep him alive, he wasn't worried about survival tonight, he planned to gorge himself on as many as he could out of sheer spite. Yadiro would have a conniption if he knew! The very notion made him smile.

Inside the club he sauntered along the fringe of the dance floor, eyeing women as he passed. He could choose a man, of course, their blood was every bit as delicious, only he found it easier to lure a woman with his charms. And he just preferred them. Deliberately pushing the intrusive thoughts of Tonia away, he smiled and winked at a pretty brunette sitting with a hulking man. She smiled back subtly, angling her face away from her escort. With his blue eyes boring into hers, Mateo gestured with the minutest tilt of his head toward the door. Her smile widened and she leaned over to shout something in the man's ear.

He'd already glided through the throng and stood waiting outside the club when the young woman burst out, her head swiveling as she searched for him. Spying the cute blond, she pursed her lips into a sexy pout and strode over, swaying her hips in an exaggerated motion.

"I told my boyfriend I was going to the toilet," she said, wondering why on Earth she was saying this to a man she hadn't even met yet. But he was so sensual, there was something magnetic about him, something irresistible.

"Come," was all he said, taking her hand, leading her down an alley and around the back of the club beside an overflowing garbage can.

"What's your name?" she asked, tripping along on her high heels. "I'm Adela."

"I don't care," he replied, gripping her around the waist with one arm, the other hand secured at the back of her head, twisting in her long hair.

He pulled her close and she parted her lips slightly, lifting her chin, expecting to be kissed. When his mouth went to her neck, she giggled at first, then moaned at his touch. Suddenly she let out a sharp cry at the pain of his fangs thrust into her flesh.

"What are you doing?" she screamed, struggling futilely in his iron grip.

Mateo didn't bother to answer. She tasted good, very good…she tasted forbidden, _naughty_. He grinned as he continued to drink and she wailed, pounding at him, pleading with him. The euphoria only human blood could provide filled his mind and senses. Presently his ears detected the sound of feet padding behind him and he whirled, flinging the girl backward; she stumbled against the wall and scrambled behind her boyfriend.

"He's crazy, Omar! He tricked me out here and then he _bit_ me!" Her hand drew away from the wound, which leaked a small amount of blood down her neck.

Omar lunged at him swinging, but he wasn't there. He'd slipped around back and nailed the big bruiser in the head with a punch that would've knocked out a less sturdy man. Adela shrieked and ran off up the alley. Smiling maliciously, his eyes reflecting a glint of moon, Mateo grasped the dazed man by the shoulders and lashed at him with his fangs, slicing him across one side of his throat, then yanked him in close and proceeded to lap at the blood dribbling from the shallow gash. He wasn't nearly as delectable as his girlfriend, too much salty sweat. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Mateo easily tossed Omar backward with one hand; he tottered and fell, clutching his neck and staring with terrified eyes.

"You'll live," Mateo said coolly. "If I'd wanted to kill you, you'd both be dead already."

At the sound of more humans approaching, he ran along the length of the club, rounded the corner, then jumped into the air. It seemed a nice night for a flight to Britain. It had been a good long while since he'd enjoyed English blood.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

He'd had no idea pregnant women were so fickle. As Severus strode along the supermarket aisle, he automatically paused and reached for the Oreos, then stopped. Narcissa had decided she didn't like 'those vulgar cookies' anymore, now she wanted _potato chips_. Severus had made the mistake of bringing some over for her to taste after he'd foolishly mentioned them in passing, and she'd gobbled them up—to his fascinated horror—like a vacuum cleaner. Very unladylike.

Ah, well, did it really matter? She was in her eighth month. If her cravings changed from week to week, it still wasn't too long before his godchild would be born. Godchild. Godson. Goddaughter. He liked the sound of it. He wondered idly if they'd chosen a name yet.

"Severus?"

He whirled around right into Lily Evans…er, Lily Potter. That alone was enough to startle him; seeing the bulge of her abdomen proclaiming a child nearly bowled him over. She looked to be almost as far along as Narcissa!

"Lily. Hi." At last he tore his eyes from her stomach, feeling slightly sick in his own stomach. How revolting! He knew she was married to James, but the thought of them…eww!

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Fine, thank you. I see you're with child." He couldn't bring himself to congratulate her on bringing Potter's demon spawn into the world.

She didn't seem to notice as she looked down smiling, massaging and patting the bump. "Yes, I'm due around the end of July. I can't wait to get this kid out."

_Can't blame you there_, Severus thought snidely. "It's only a few more months." Before he could stop himself he blurted, "How's Potter taking it?"

As if slapped in the face, Lily drew back and let out a tiny gasp. "He's very happy, of course. Why?"

Severus gave a shrug. "He's such an ass, I assumed he'd be jealous of the child."

Lily bit her lip, then said, "Severus, can we go outside and talk?"

He was tempted to brush her off, yet the pleading expression of her eyes captivated him. He shrugged again and set down the bags of potato chips. "Alright." He followed her out onto the sidewalk, then down a piece to a bench.

Lily sat down and he sat beside her. "Severus, ever since that day I went to see you at the shop where you work, I've not been able to get you out of my mind."

The young man's heart leaped, though for the life of him he didn't know why. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"All these months, I've had a lot of time to think, especially since pregnancy cuts down on your activities. I've been evaluating my life." She smiled in a sad, desolate way. "You made, and continue to make, that potion for Remus even though I suppose you hate him as much as you do James."

"No, Potter is in a category all his own," Severus replied dryly. "Although Black is a close second."

She continued, picking up speed, almost babbling in her hurry to get out the words bottled for so long. "The fact is you're doing a very generous thing for someone you don't even like. You probably do all sorts of kind things that no one knows about."

_I do_? he reflected to himself. _Not intentionally_.

"From the moment you called me _that name_ in fifth year, I closed my heart to you, I refused to listen to your side of it. I let myself be influenced by James and Sirius, who insist you're evil. I never thought you were evil, I—"

"Lily, we've been through this before," Severus interrupted, feeling the old wave of despair rushing over him. "Why are you bringing it all up again?"

"Because I want to apologize."

Severus froze. He hadn't heard that right, he couldn't have. For four years Lily had treated him like a leper at worst, a pathetic creature at best. Obviously he was losing his hearing or she'd taken to mumbling. "What?"

"I was wrong, Severus," she squeaked, dropping her head as the tears started from her eyes. "You _are_ a good person. I should've forgiven you, I should've stood up for you instead of turning a blind eye when they picked on you. But I wanted James to like me!" By now her voice was practically a wail.

He'd heard of backhanded compliments. What does one call it when one is kicked in the gut while being complimented? His suspicions were confirmed. All along Lily'd had a 'thing' for Potter while denying it, claiming she hated him, and she'd thrown their friendship under the bus to further her aims with that filthy, wretched, despicable Potter! If he had an ounce of self-respect, he'd get up and walk away. But he couldn't, he was glued to the spot.

"How exactly am I supposed to answer that, Lily? You cast me aside so you could make it with the biggest jerk Hogwarts has ever seen. Words fail me."

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed.

"So was I, four years ago, but it didn't matter, did it?" he asked coldly.

"Severus, if I could change the past, I would." Getting a grip on herself, she went on, "James isn't a jerk, not to me. He's attentive when Sirius—" Here she halted abruptly.

"When Black what?" he demanded.

"When Sirius isn't dragging him out drinking or partying," she admitted, wiping her eyes and nose with a tissue she'd pulled out of her sleeve. "He's matured a lot since school, only Sirius hasn't."

Severus grimaced. Apparently time hadn't knocked Saint Potter off his pedestal. She wanted to wipe the slate clean by apologizing, that was all. Yet she genuinely did seem repentant for her actions, and as an apology was more than he'd ever anticipated, he ought to be glad of that, he surmised. Nevertheless, a nagging voice told him to proceed with caution whenever Potter was involved in any way, shape, or form.

"You're telling me you regret our friendship being destroyed," said Severus slowly. "So do I. I've said I'm sorry, you've said you're sorry. If that's all, I'll let you get back to your shopping."

"I miss you, Severus." Again he felt his body go rigid. "And the truth is, I love James, but he simply isn't the conversationalist you are. He's so into Quidditch and junk, he's never been interested in intellectual pursuits. If it isn't too late, I wish we could start over."

_Don't be fooled—don't __be__ a fool! Would you put yourself in that position again?_ he warned himself. "What would your _husband_ have to say about it?"

"I don't care what he says. I have a right to my friends the same as he has a right to his," Lily sniffled.

She looked up at him with those damnable green eyes that had woven a spell on him so many years ago. What the hell was it about her, about those eyes that made him feel this obsessive need to protect her? He didn't love her, not like he loved Glenna, of that he was certain, yet that juvenile possessive quality he couldn't put a handle on kicked in every time he was near her, almost like a drug…or a potion gone wrong. Regardless of how much he hated to admit it, he missed Lily, too. She'd been his first real friend, he'd felt lost and betrayed when she was gone. But was it worth the imminent clashes with Potter and his cohorts to strike up a renewed relationship? One he couldn't be sure was truly sincere?

"If you're doing this to piss off Potter, as much as that would please me, I'd rather stay out of it," Severus responded.

"I don't want trouble between you, either," Lily said. "Can't we just be friends like we used to, talk like we used to? When James isn't around, I mean…or we could meet at my parents' house, or at the park."

_She's begging_, Severus thought, completely astonished. _Lily Evans is actually begging me to be her friend…which means I'm probably dreaming._ Yes, that was it, he was dreaming! In that case, why not agree? "Alright, Lily, I guess we can try. Remember that my friends haven't changed since school and I still have an affinity for the Dark Arts, so if that bothers you, you're free to change your mind now."

"We don't have to discuss those things," she answered, brightening. "Maybe we can meet in the park next Saturday, just hang out?"

Severus nodded. Clandestine, albeit public meetings were likely the best he could hope for, he mused. Although he doubted they'd ever be as close as they once were, he held out the tiniest bit of hope that they'd be at least friends. For some unfathomable reason, he desired that very much.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius!" a shrill woman's voice called out.

He halted in the middle of the hallway, glancing up at a row of portraits. Silvanus smiled warmly at him, which was a first—or perhaps not. He didn't ordinarily look at the portraits anymore, they were simply part of the landscape. As a child he'd often felt as if he were walking the gauntlet with all of those ancient relatives staring at him. Adjacent to Silvanus was his wife Pearl, whose flaring nostrils gave him to understand this was the one speaking to him.

"Yes, Pearl?"

"You ought to address me properly, young man," she chided.

"Knowing how women like to shield their age, would it not be disrespectful of me to insert all the 'greats' that would come in front of grandmother?" asked Lucius innocently. Seriously, the woman had lived hundreds of years ago, the number of 'greats' was bound to be substantial!

She sniffed. "Lucius, some time back Silvanus' portrait disappeared, and ever since he's been smug and happy, but he won't say why. Can you tell me why?"

Lucius hesitated. Having spoken to the strident shrew on more than one occasion, he fully understood why Silvanus' portrait used to look stern and sad all the time. A life with Pearl couldn't have been a joyous one. "I should think you'd be glad he's happy."

"Why should I?"

"Husbands and wives are supposed to rejoice with each other. You were his wife from the time you were…seventeen, was it?"

"Sixteen," she corrected imperiously. "And only because I was the oldest pureblood girl eligible to marry when Silvanus came slinking back from Spain and his parents announced he was to wed immediately." She fanned herself with what appeared to be a fan made of peacock feathers. "Everyone knew that meant he'd done something shameful to displease his parents, and I got stuck with him and all the gossip and sidelong looks from society."

How did she manage to remain bitter over an arranged marriage after all these years? "Surely you grew to love each other."

A sharp guffaw from Silvanus' portrait prompted Pearl to fling her fan in his direction; Lucius saw it _thunk_ against the man's skull. Silvanus picked it up and handed it back with a mocking bow.

"I did my duty, I bore him an heir and two others besides," Pearl stated, wrinkling her nose at her husband. "You young people today think only of yourselves, marrying for 'love'." She rolled her powder blue eyes. "Why, Abraxas had the audacity to break his betrothal to marry on his own whim! And _you_, cavorting obscenely with Narcissa! Spoiled—"

"Well, I must be going," Lucius interrupted, edging away. "My minx of a wife is waiting for me downstairs."

"Come back here, Lucius!" ordered Pearl. "You haven't told me why Silvanus is acting giddy like a teenager again."

Lucius smiled evilly. "Do you really, honestly want to know?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

He looked over at Silvanus. "Do you mind if I tell her?"

"By all means, please do," Silvanus replied, smirking in the unmistakably Malfoy fashion.

Lucius directed his gaze back at Pearl. "He's happy because he got to meet his son, the bastard he begot in Spain before marrying _you_." He heard Pearl's gasp of horror as he started to walk off, then he turned back as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh, and his illegitimate son—he's a vampire." He hummed to himself as he walked away.

"There you are, my love," he cooed to Narcissa upon reaching the bottom of the stairs. "Are you sure you want to put yourself through this in your condition?"

Narcissa eyed him irritably. "My condition? I'm eight months pregnant, I'm not drunk!"

"I didn't mean to imply—"

"Can we go now? We'll be late. Malfoys aren't late." Pouting, she slipped a velvety thin shawl around her shoulders, then made for the door.

He hurried after her, took her by the arm, and turned her round to face him. "Narcissa, if I did something to anger you, I'm very sorry. I want you to have a good time. I'm only concerned because we haven't been to any functions since you got pregnant. I don't want to wear you out."

Relenting, she relaxed into him, placing her cheek on the front of his dress robes as he engulfed her in his arms. "I'm not fragile, honey, and I'm so bored with nothing to do here. Let's go to the party; if I get tired, we'll come home."

"As you wish, my princess," he whispered, to be rewarded with an extra hard hug. "Once our beautiful baby is born, you'll get to hold all the soirees you want."

Narcissa laughed against him. "From what my mother said, I won't have the time or energy to do anything except take care of the baby."

"That's what house elves are for," he reminded her.

"I don't want house elves raising my child," she answered. "Except for maybe the nasty, dirty parts."

Lucius grinned. His sister had said that very thing before unloading Niki on him to babysit. He tried not to think beyond those happy times…

"Shall we go then?" He bowed, took her elbow, and led her to the carriage they used in lieu of floo'ing or Apparating, both of which were hard on women with child. "Malfoys mustn't be late."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_**A Muggle flat in London, 2:00 a.m**_.

Four cloaked figures Apparated outside the door of a second floor apartment, hideous masks covering their faces. They didn't worry that any Muggles might see them at this hour, and if they were spotted, a few more casualties meant nothing to them.

Rodolphus pointed his wand as he chanted every spell the master had taught him against wards. Only one fell with an audible sigh as it shimmered upward and vanished. He next performed an _alohomora_ on the door, grinning to himself.

"This is too easy. One ward!" Quietly he slinked inside with the other three on his heels. Immediately Bellatrix threw up a silencing charm around the flat. He motioned for Rabastan and Travers to go left, he and Bella veered right.

No more than half a minute later, two green flashes lit up one of the bedrooms, and Rabastan and Travers came trooping into the living room smiling like Cheshire cats. The others joined them momentarily.

"There's nobody in there, it's a guest room," Bella complained.

Rabastan took off his mask, waving animatedly. "They were sleeping, it was a cinch. We ought to attack at night more often, less chance of one of us getting hurt from a fight."

No one had noticed Rodolphus heading into the deceased people's bedroom until he came back and growled, "It's not him!"

Everyone became silent.

"That bastard escaped his fate again?" screeched Bella. "That's three times! It's intolerable!"

"Rodolphus is the one who got the information that the Potters live here," Travers accused, unconcerned. The master wouldn't care about these deaths.

"Apparently it was faulty information," Rodolphus retorted. "But it was right, in a way. I saw a photo on the nightstand of James Potter. These must be his parents."

Bella perked up. "The dark lord will be pleased to be rid of two more blood traitors! And there's bound to be something around here to point us where that Potter puke and his mudblood live."

Wand tips alight, the four of them ransacked the place, to no avail. Despite numerous photos, not a scrap of parchment or letter address existed here to divulge the location of James Potter. Their quest unfulfilled, the four prepared to return to Lord Voldemort to report on the night's activity.

As they exited, Rabastan aimed his wand to put the Dark Mark in the sky, but Rodolphus slapped his hand down. "No. This way they can't prove it was Death Eaters. If we place the Mark, it'll warn Potter to go deeper into hiding. That little prick has eluded us long enough."


	59. Chapter 59

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Fifty-Nine

"Severus, did you see this?" Eileen held up a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Didn't you go to school with a boy named Potter?"

"Yes," he said, taking the paper from her hand, his heart thumping. Had the Death Eaters finally caught up with the insufferable prat?

"His parents died," Eileen went on as Severus ignored her, his black eyes devouring the article.

_The Muggle law enforcement were called in when neighbors adjacent to the Potter dwelling smelled an odd, terrible odor. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were found in their bed, with no apparent signs of trauma or struggle in the bedroom or flat. Natural cause has been cited as the reason for their demise, although the Ministry of Magic can neither confirm nor deny whether the Unforgivable killing curse was used, as their deaths appear to have come some three days prior and the bodies showed signs of decay._

Potter's parents were dead. Severus leaned back in his chair at the breakfast table. He couldn't pretend to be happy about it, yet it made him gag to feel _pity_ for his nemesis. The probability of both parents keeling over in their sleep in the same night was astronomical. In other words, the Death Eaters likely did play a hand in this, but why kill the old couple? James was the one Lord Voldemort despised. He could only imagine that they'd ransacked the place for clues to the bastard's whereabouts, yet the article implied things were not out of place. Would they have charmed everything back where it came from? He'd have to ask Lucius if he knew anything about it.

"This is awful news, mum. I'll send an owl over to Lily's parents' house." It just occurred to him that he didn't even know where Lily lived. After the Halloween attack in which he'd sliced open Potter with _sectumsempra_, the family had sold the house and gone into hiding.

"Will you be going to the funeral?" she asked.

Severus looked at her as if she'd grown a third eye. "Mum, Potter ha—we didn't get along in school. He wouldn't want me there." Not to mention if the dark lord got wind of the fact that he was hobnobbing with the enemy, _his_ funeral would follow shortly. "I'd better go write a note of condolence and owl it right away."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The following day Severus received another shock: Lily Potter stood in his doorway asking to come in. He stepped aside wordlessly, she walked in, and he closed the door.

His mind reeled at having Lily show up at his house after all these years. He used to ponder it, dream of it…then once he had Glenna, he didn't really think of it anymore. Now it was just—weird! Lacking his usual flair for expression, he remarked, "Lily, this is unexpected."

"I know, Severus. I got your owl…thank you, it was kind of you." She gestured toward the couch. "May I sit down?"

"Oh, yes." Shaken out of his shock, he came over and planted himself on the opposite end of the sofa. At a loss for words he said, "I didn't think it appropriate to attend the funeral."

"I understand." Awkward pause. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you in the park as we discussed, but with things…" she trailed off.

"Yeah, I figured." He didn't remember it being so hard to carry on a civil, marginally normal conversation with Lily, but then it _had_ been four years of virtual animosity. Blushing like a schoolboy, he tentatively reached over to pick up her hand as a show of support. When she didn't jerk it away, he blushed more furiously. "I feel bad for you, Lily."

"Thank you, Severus, I…I wish it weren't like this, I really wanted so much to regain our friendship."

Though Snape's face remained impassive, his heart squeezed. "What do you mean?"

"James says we need to move again, and that we shouldn't be in public or have visitors or anything, at least for a while. He's afraid the Death Eaters will find us and try to kill us again."

"Why would he think that?" exclaimed Severus, feeling like an utter hypocrite. If any of them found out Lily was here in his home, there'd be hell and worse to pay.

"He just wants to be sure. I mean, the Ministry can't confirm my in-laws deaths were natural cause," she explained.

"Nor could they confirm foul play," he countered. "Potter's being paranoid."

"Maybe," she admitted. "But for now, I think it's best to do as he says."

"Can we write?" asked Severus, immediately berating himself. Yes, James would _love_ to get letters from Snivellus, and in a secret hiding place at that!

"If you send to my family, I'll get it eventually and owl you back," Lily promised. "I have to go, no one knows where I am." She stood up, her hand still pressed in Severus' palm. He rose, looking dejected. "Goodbye for now."

Suddenly she lunged forward to hug him, his arms instinctively closed around her, the bulge of her abdomen pressing in his gut in a strange, unsettling way. Aside from that, the embrace felt wonderful, as if he'd been freed from a weighty chain. For the first time in four years, he felt like he truly had a chance to be friends with her again, and he liked it.

"Take care of yourself, Lily. I'll write you soon."

She smiled and pulled away. "I look forward to it. It feels so good to talk to you again."

"Likewise." After she'd gone, he sat back onto the couch. What was he getting himself into? If the dark lord had indeed sent followers to murder Potter's parents, it made sense Potter was next. Or more likely, he'd been the target all along, which put Lily in danger. Yet another reason to hate the fool, he couldn't even protect his own wife!

_I digress_, Snape mused. The real issue was this: Lily was in danger from Death Eaters because of Potter, and if the dark lord knew Snape had become friendly with her, nothing good could come of it. Either he'd kill Severus for betrayal, or force him to find out where the couple was hiding, again putting Lily in the line of fire. She was right, it was best to lay low—including foregoing writing letters. He'd promised to write, but not if it meant her possible death! For all he knew, the Evans family was being watched, too. Owls hanging around a Muggle house were definitely suspicious. Hopefully it would blow over soon or Potter would meet his comeuppance, it made no difference to Severus which one. Either way, Snape would be free to communicate with and mingle with Lily once more.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Oh, Lucius," Narcissa called, waddling out of his study and down the hall, peering hither and yon like an animal on the hunt. She knew he was home. She cradled her lower back in her hands as she walked; only two more weeks until this baby finally vacated her body so she could feel human again. "Lucius!"

Her husband poked his head out from the great library at the far end of the hall where he'd been hiding…er, studying. "Yes, dear?"

Spying him, she lumbered along as fast as she dared. Lucius came up from the other direction to meet her, a worried frown creasing his forehead. "What is it, love? Are you alright?"

"I'm bored. I want you to take me someplace new."

_Not again!_ In the past month he'd been put upon with so many requests of a trivial nature he thought he might implode. Still, she was his princess, she was carrying his child. Eyeing her up and down, he suppressed an irritated sigh. She was in no condition to be galavanting, she should be resting. "Where would you like to go?"

Narcissa chewed her lower lip, which he found most adorable and she knew it. "I want to see a Muggle grocery," she announced, smiling and batting her eyes at him.

When Lucius had recovered from a prolonged fit of coughing and wheezing, he wiped the water running from his eyes and glared at her. "Are you insane or are you testing me?"

"You got to go to one," she pouted, stamping her foot like a spoiled child. "I never get to have any fun! All I do is toddle around the house—"

"Correction, love. I was _forced_ to go, I didn't _get_ to go," Lucius drawled. "You despise Muggles as much as I do, are your hormones driving you completely batty?"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way!" she huffed. Yes, it was a bizarre request, she just craved something novel. Why couldn't that—man—understand that? Because he wasn't the one carrying a twenty pound wriggling wombat in his belly for what seemed like two years! Well, if that's the way he wanted to be, she wanted no part of him! "Never mind, I don't care to go now." She wheeled around as imperiously as a dangerously unsteady body is able, then wobbled off sulking.

"God save me," Lucius murmured to the ceiling. Father had warned him things could get like this. He desperately hoped Narcissa would return to the normal, sane woman he loved once their child was born.

His reflections were cut short by a burning pain in his forearm. Without hesitation he summoned his robes and mask, ran to catch up with his wife to kiss her, and rushed away.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Voldemort motioned for Lucius to get up. Skipping preliminaries he said, "Malfoy, I gave you a diary of mine for safekeeping. I trust you still have it."

"Of course, my lord. It's in one of our safes," he assured the dark wizard.

"Snape is poised to obtain a teaching position at Hogwarts." Voldemort enjoyed the look of surprise crossing the other's face. Evidently they weren't as close of friends as he'd thought. "Once he is a professor, you'll have access to Hogwarts in a whole new way—by visiting a friend rather than making an official visit as governor."

Lucius said nothing, having no idea where this was going.

"The diary will come in very handy," the dark lord said cryptically.

"May I ask how, master?"

"No doubt you've heard of the heir of Slytherin, Lucius." He studied the young man for signs of recognition, slightly put off to notice only a blank expression. "He is descended from Salazar Slytherin, the co-founder of Hogwarts who created the Chamber of Secrets."

Another obtuse expression greeted him.

"Don't they teach you anything at Hogwarts anymore?" demanded Voldemort.

"Apparently not, my lord," murmured Lucius, lowering his eyes. Was it his fault Dumbledore suppressed all the interesting aspects of magic and history? "I beg you to enlighten me."

Voldemort wiggled back on his throne, crossing his legs and sighing like a martyr. "Salazar Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts to house a great creature, a basilisk, to do his bidding. No one but he knew where the chamber was or how to access it. He had to seal the chamber when the other founders started searching, though legend told of his heir to come who would re-open the chamber and allow the basilisk to finish its work."

"What work might that be, my lord?" He thought it wise not to ask what a _basilisk_ was; he'd have to look it up later.

"The work of driving the mudblood filth out of Hogwarts."

"But I thought Dumbledore was the one who allowed mudbloods in," Lucius said. "They were at Hogwarts before that?"

"Oh, he made it much worse, soliciting the savages. But no, the other founders had no pride in their pureblood heritage," Voldemort explained, shaking his head in disgust with a grimace that twisted his face until it was more hideous than usual. "They didn't realize that purebloods must remain so in order to keep the true, pure magic alive; they didn't care about betraying their ancestors by mixing superior blood with inferior, dirtying it, warping the magic."

Lucius nodded along in complete agreement. Purebloods carried the superior gift they'd been given, they cherished it, they taught their children how to use it and respect it. Without purebloods, where did they think halfbloods—and by an ironic accident of genetics, mudbloods—came from? If no purebloods existed, magic would die out, or at the very least the world would revert to killing witches and wizards who popped up by chance every now and again. For once he didn't have to pretend, he concurred wholeheartedly with the master.

"Salazar Slytherin understood the need to keep blood pure, as do most of those sorted into his House. As I said, he was compelled to seal the chamber, which was to be opened by his heir. I am that heir, Malfoy."

"Seriously?" exclaimed Lucius, hurriedly backtracking. "I mean, that's incredible, my lord! You've been chosen for such a momentous task."

"Obviously Dumbledore has effectively stifled any mention of the chamber or the heir, else you'd know that I _did_ re-open the chamber when I was at Hogwarts." Lucius stared at him, wide eyed and enthralled. "The basilisk killed a mudblood and they were set to close Hogwarts. I was forced to seal the chamber once more, which brings me to why you've been summoned. The diary I entrusted to you has the power to open the chamber again, to allow the work to be finished, to be rid of mudbloods there once and for all."

"It truly is an astonishing object, my lord. I'm humbled that you've chosen me to guard it."

Voldemort gave a magnanimous nod. "When the time is right, I'll give the order for you to pass the diary into Hogwarts where it can begin its work."

"I eagerly anticipate it, master. The sooner the better."

"My lord!" came a screeched shout, followed by Bellatrix scurrying into the room. So intent was she on her mission, she wholly forgot to denigrate Lucius. "Master, that vampire is back!"

Red eyes lighting, Voldemort rose in one smooth motion, stepped off the low pedestal housing his throne, and pushed Lucius aside on his way out. Lucius trailed after him, full of anxiety. Was it Mateo? If so, why would he come here? Or was it the leader? And why did the master go to meet him rather than have him brought in?

His questions were answered momentarily. Yadiro Buitrago and an entourage of four other vampires stood silently outside. Mateo was not among them. Yadiro gave a small bow to the dark lord, then nodded so lightly in Lucius' direction he wasn't entirely sure he'd been recognized.

"Lord Voldemort, I am pleased to make your acquaintance once more," Yadiro said in his formal, precise English.

"It's good to see you," Voldemort answered, looking genuinely glad. "Is this business or pleasure?"

"Perhaps both. First, I am curious how your flying is advancing." On their previous lessons, it had been a difficult road trying to figure out how to translate into a breakdown of motion the very act of flight that came so naturally to a _sangrista_. By the second lesson, the dark wizard had accomplished actual flight, if clumsily.

"Very well, thank you. I've been practicing and refining what you taught me, and now I find it rather enjoyable."

"Excellent," said Buitrago. "Would you care to show me?"

Voldemort took out his wand, muttered a spell over himself, and jumped into the air. Looking surprised, Buitrago leaped after him and the two flew off, leaving their subordinates behind to stare at one another. Huffing indignantly, mumbling something about a refusal to babysit a bunch of freaks, Bella stomped back into the castle.

Lucius glanced around feeling like an idiot. Did he have permission to leave? Certainly the master hadn't ordered him to stay, but if he left without permission, he'd be in for a boatload of pain. Tempted to slip into the castle himself rather than trade wordless glares with the vampires, he backed up, then halted in place. Come to think of it, their brooding company was highly preferable to Bella's.

One of the males finally addressed him in shaky, heavily accented English. "You ees da Malfoy weech?"

_Witch_? "Wizard," he corrected firmly. "And yes, I'm Malfoy."

"You seeing Mateo?"

"Have I seen Mateo? Yes, but not for well over a month. Why?"

The vampire chattered something to the others, who fired back in rapid Spanish, then he turned to Lucius again. "Mateo ees leave. Him no come back."

Lucius froze in place. Was he saying Mateo was exiled or missing? Had he been ejected from the cult? Was this part of what Buitrago had come to discuss—the 'business'? He doubted they'd changed their minds and agreed to work with the dark lord. Damn it, why hadn't he learned Spanish properly when he'd had the chance with his tutor?

"Hey, Lucius," said Rodolphus, wandering over from the castle. "What's going on? Who are these lovely folks?" His eyes lit on a pretty young _sangrista_ in tight pants and black T-shirt that filled out nicely with her ample bosom.

"They're vampires. Haven't you seen them before?"

"Actually, no. I never had the pleasure." Had he just winked at her?

"The dark lord went flying with their leader. I'd go home if I knew I wouldn't be punished for it," Lucius answered, glancing up into the sky.

Rodolphus seemed to be only half listening. He'd caught the female's gaze and was smiling suggestively. "Yeah, you'd better wait," he said distractedly.

The sangrista smiled back in a way that showed she was no stranger to flirtation. To Lucius' shock, she stepped forward to plant a kiss right on Rodolphus' lips. Not only did he not resist, in a matter of seconds they were necking like teenagers.

"Rodolphus, what are you doing?" Lucius exclaimed, to no avail.

"Can't you tell?" grinned the man. "If she's willing, so am I."

"She could bite you!"

"If she does, I hope it feels really good," Rodolphus quipped. Snatching her hand, he started to pull her along. Hand in hand they slipped off into the dark as Lucius watched in horror.

"She no bite," the male vampire interjected. "Have fun ees all."

"Not once Bella finds out," Lucius muttered to no one. He didn't want to be around for that. Since when did Rodolphus cheat on Bella? Not that he'd blame the man, she'd been humping the master for years and shortchanging her husband in the process. Nevertheless, Bella had never been the type to share, so Roddy-boy had better hope she didn't discover his little tryst. He'd kind of miss Rodolphus if Bella murdered him.

Another short period of awkward silence, until at last the figures of Voldemort and Buitrago appeared as small black objects in the sky. They grew rapidly larger, hovered overhead, and touched down softly. In Lucius' experience, this was the only time he'd ever seen the dark lord truly looking gleeful when it didn't involve someone else's pain.

"You're still here, Lucius?" asked Voldemort. "Mr. Buitrago had a question for us: have you seen Mateo lately?"

"No, my lord," he hedged, wondering how much Buitrago had told him. Not enough to incense him, it seemed. "This vampire here said he's missing."

"Yes, apparently so. At any rate, you may go."

Lucius bowed deeply and Disapparated, only a minute before Rodolphus returned from the darkness with the female vampire, smiling broadly.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The young woman lying on the ground moaned, shaking her head in confusion. Mateo knelt over her, his mouth drenched with her blood, which dribbled down his chin onto his filthy shirt that hadn't been changed in weeks, not since he stole that last suit of clothing off a line. He regarded the woman carefully; he'd taken more from her than he ever had from any one person, enough perhaps to turn her. If his heart worked, it would have skipped a beat.

He tried to remember the process of turning as described to him. The special glands grown behind his canine teeth were the key. Exactly the right amount of blood must be taken, one third of that in the body, then he must feed back two shots of the venom from his canine glands directly into an artery. It seemed simple enough, yet if not done precisely, the girl would die.

He furrowed his brow and shook his head in agitation. Was he actually contemplating bringing her unwillingly into the fold? That was forbidden much more so than taking meals without permission, it was an offense punishable by death, which was the very reason he was here! Porfirio had been killed by his hand for this very thing, or the attempt of it, at any rate.

Mateo sat back on his heels to think. Was anger at Yadiro and his rules reason enough to create a _sangrista_, steal her life, steal her family and all she held dear? He himself resented with a fervent passion the fact that all this had been taken from him. And though it chafed to admit it, Diro had a point in stating that creating vampires simply made more competition for the blood resources.

He rubbed a finger over the bloody gash on her neck. It wasn't deep, he never cut deep like some who were less considerate…it would seal itself soon, she'd live. Getting to his feet, he wobbled a bit, feeling like he used to as a human when he got drunk. Too much excess tended to do that, even to _sangristas_. Come tomorrow he'd suffer the hangover effect he'd grown accustomed to during his little rampage.

Maybe it was time to get over 'his tantrum' as Diro was fond of calling his outbursts. Soon he'd have to go back, he missed Tonia dearly…he _didn't_ relish the thought of facing the leader because, although Yadiro probably wasn't aware of what he'd been up to, nothing had changed in the dynamic of their relationship. It was a fight waiting to happen, and he'd seen the results of _sangristas_' fights with Yadiro. It wasn't pretty. Perhaps he should go visit his great-great-to-the-umpteenth-nephew, Lucius.


	60. Chapter 60Labor of Love

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty

Mateo looked like hell warmed over, he didn't need anyone to remind him of it, let alone a snarky, argumentative little house elf! "Inform your master I'm here," he ordered for the third time. "Or when I do see him, I'll tell him you refused."

Dobby slammed the door in his face, spun around, and trotted up the stairs. Master Lucius liked the white-faced man, though Dobby couldn't see why. The white-faced man was dirtier than even Dobby, and only came around at night. But if he made Master Lucius happy, Master Lucius wouldn't yell at Dobby or hurt Dobby. Besides, evil white-faced-only-come-at-night man threatened to tell on Dobby.

He tapped at Lucius' bedroom door. "Master Lucius, a white-faced man comes to see master. Says his name is Mateo."

A moment later the door opened, courtesy of a bit of Lucius' wandless magic. "Tell him I'll be right down."

"Who is he, Lucius?" asked Narcissa, who was cuddled in his arms and not thrilled at being separated from him.

"A relative," he answered, crawling out of bed and pulling on his trousers.

"What relative? I've never heard the name," she insisted.

"A distant relative," he clarified in a way that in actuality didn't clarify anything. He leaned over to kiss Narcissa, who gripped his robes tightly.

"Lucius, don't lie to me," she said in a low, menacing tone that startled him. "You promised never to lie."

"Honey, I'm not. If I tell you the whole story, you'll flip out." He regarded her closely. He didn't like having secrets from her, and if Mateo was ever to be more than a 'porch visitor', he'd eventually have to explain to both his wife and his father. He shuddered inwardly at the prospect.

"It's nice to know you think so highly of me," she snapped, letting him go and laboriously rolling over onto her other side, her back to him.

He ought to go, Mateo was waiting, yet he couldn't. On a good day he hated having her cross with him, and right now she was ready to have their child any day. She was hormonal, emotional, at times irrational, but he loved her with his whole heart. Slowly he knelt up on the bed facing her back. One hand gently glided along the length of her frame. "You remember when I went to Spain, and I said I couldn't tell you why?"

"Yes."

"Lord Voldemort was trying to gain an alliance with a vampire cult."

Narcissa flopped around to face him, her mouth set in an 'o'. "Did he succeed?"

"No. But Mateo was there, he saw me and heard my name…honey, Mateo is a vampire. He's also the illegitimate son of Silvanus Malfoy."

There was a long pause while she digested this and tried to ascertain the truth of it. It was simply too fantastic for Lucius to make up, his imagination wasn't that good! She burst out laughing. "Oh, my God! Lucius Malfoy is related to a vampire!" Another bout of hilarity ensued. "I definitely see the resemblance to one."

"Well, it's good to see you happy," he clipped, slightly miffed without quite knowing why. "I really should go to him." He kissed her while she continued to shake with laughter, then slid off the bed, tucked his wand in his pocket, and Apparated to the front door.

Mateo was pacing the porch when Lucius came out. He looked up in relief. "I thought maybe you decided not to come."

"You're a mess," observed Lucius dryly, raising an eyebrow at the bloodstained, soiled clothing. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Um, no—well, that depends on how you look at it," he responded, grinning at his forthcoming comment. "You know, we really should stop meeting like this, people will get ideas. Why, Veronica tells me you—"

Blushing, Lucius interrupted, "That wasn't true! Lord Voldemort told her that to make her go away."

"If you say so," Mateo smirked.

"Why are you here, Mateo?" Lucius grumped, not caring for the insinuation.

"To visit my long-lost relation," said the other, gazing off into the darkness, which to him wasn't so dark as for a human. "And to avoid going home."

"Ah, yes. Your friend Tonia was here a few weeks ago hunting for you," Lucius mentioned, noting the vampire's back stiffen.

Mateo whirled around. "Tonia was here? Why?"

"Apparently she's concerned about you. I didn't pry, sorry." Lucius gave a tiny shrug and walked over to sit on the broad wooden railing encircling the porch. He leaned back against one of the pillars, one foot drawn up onto the rail. "And the other day your leader came to see Lord Voldemort; he asked after you." Lucius could swear the vampire's pallid complexion went a shade whiter.

"Yadiro was asking for me? Did he say why?" _Oh, shit, he knows, he knows what I've been doing! He's searching me out to kill me! _

"He didn't say. I imagine he's worried, too, you've been gone a long time."

No, that couldn't be it. Yadiro never worried about anyone. He was tough as nails, the only thing that concerned him was making sure his _sangristas_ toed the line…that and keeping them safe from outside threats, he admitted grudgingly.

"I left because we had a disagreement," Mateo said softly in a supreme example of understatement. "I highly doubt he'd come all this way to check on my welfare."

A glint of light shone from the manor as the door opened and Narcissa stepped outside. Lucius jumped to his feet to rush to her side, taking her gently by the arm.

"Sweetheart, go back inside—"

"Lucius, is this Mateo?" she asked, squirming out of his grasp.

"Yes, my pretty lady," Mateo answered, bowing low with a flourish. "Forgive my appearance, I haven't had regular access to a washroom and clean clothing. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"

"You didn't even tell him?" Narcissa chided, slapping Lucius lightly in the chest. "Some proud husband you are. I'm Narcissa." She extended her hand; he took it, bowed again, and kissed it tenderly.

"The pleasure is mine, Narcissa. Lucius also didn't see fit to mention you're with child."

"And she's going back in the house now," Lucius announced, pulling her backward away from the vampire.

"Lucius!" she snapped, struggling futilely.

"Leave her be," Mateo said, annoyed at seeing the woman pressed against her will. "She doesn't want to go in." He could easily overpower Lucius, force him to desist, but that was hardly the way to build a glowing relationship. Then understanding smacked him in the face. Lucius still didn't trust him, he was hiding his wife away to keep her safe from the big bad vampire! Sighing in exasperation he said, "Damn it, Lucius, I'm not going to bite her! I thought we sorted that out."

"Better safe than sorry," Lucius muttered as he dragged Narcissa along. He let go with a howl when she kicked him in the shin while chomping down hard on his hand. "What're you doing?"

"Protecting myself from you," she said haughtily. "He said he won't hurt me. If you trust him not to bite you, trust him with me."

The irony of the situation—Narcissa doing the biting instead of himself—wasn't lost on Mateo as he interjected, "I'd never attack you or your family, and certainly not a pregnant woman. What do you take me for?"

Lucius shrugged, frowning. "It's my job to protect her."

Nodding in tacit agreement, Mateo backed off to sit on the railing that Lucius had vacated. His expression had become pensive. "My wife was with child when I was made a _sangrista_—a vampire. She left me, ran away. I never found her or my children."

"How terrible!" Narcissa sympathized, tears springing to her eyes. "Why would she do that? How long ago was it?"

"She was afraid of me," he said, eyes downcast. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore, it was three hundred years ago."

"Oh." So much for offering to marshal forces to look for his family. "Have you ever—you know, married again, had more children?"

Mateo grinned, then began to chuckle. Humans knew so little about vampires! "I can perform the act, but I'll never be able to father more children. My seed is as dead as I am."

"That's such a shame, I feel so awful for you."

"Yes, well, that's life," he said pragmatically. It just occurred to him what time it was—for him, quite early. For them, quite late, and Narcissa looked exhausted. "I shouldn't keep you up so late, Narcissa, what with the baby and all. Early tomorrow evening we can visit more if you like."

Though tempted to argue, she really was drained. "I'd like that. Lucius, shouldn't we invite Mateo in?"

"Father would be less than enthusiastic about that, dear," he answered quietly. _Although_…aside from the dungeon under the house, there was a small cellar beneath the gazebo out back. "Please permit me the hospitality I'm capable of at this point," he said, feeling ashamed at his lack of true hospitality. "If you'd like to stay through the day, you're welcome to sleep in the cellar just beyond the orchard. No light can get in, you'll be safe."

"Thank you, I appreciate that," Mateo accepted, smiling in a way that bore resemblance to the living Malfoys.

"I'll show you to it." Lucius went to the door, which was still ajar, and _accio_'d a set of his own clean robes. He handed them to Mateo as he drawled, "I'll send an elf over with water and towels. Perhaps tomorrow evening you'll look like a Malfoy instead of a Muggle who's wallowed in too many puddles."

"Ever the charmer, aren't you? How did you manage to snag such a delightful wife?"

"I'm rich," Lucius said smugly, squeezing Narcissa's hand. "Sweetheart, go on in, I'll be in very shortly. Let me show Mateo to his quarters."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Starting in the early afternoon, Narcissa felt cramping pains shooting through her abdomen. Not often, mind you, just often enough to keep her guessing if it was labor or not. She decided 'not'. Everyone talked about how awful the contractions were, how relentless, and she _had_ been warned by the medi-witch that false labor was a common occurrence. She didn't want to upset the family unnecessarily; these cramps were fairly mild and harmless. With that in mind, she'd gone to bed as usual, though her sleep was anything but peaceful.

Come 4 a.m., the frequency had closed in to a mere two minutes apart, and the pain had intensified to veritable agony that she could no longer brush aside. She groaned as she reached over to shake her husband. "Honey." No response. She whacked him in the back with her fist. "Honey!"

Waking up abruptly with the throbbing knot in his back, Lucius flipped over to face her. "What?"

"Go get your fatherrrr—_aahh_!"

Lucius' eyes snapped open wide, he threw back the covers, sprang out of bed, and dashed down the hall to pound on Abraxas' door. Without waiting for an answer, he barged in. "Father, Narcissa needs you! I think it's time."

Instantly alert, wearing only blue silk pajama bottoms, Abraxas grabbed his wand off the nightstand and they both hustled back to Narcissa, who was at the moment screaming some Muggle obscenity—which she'd probably picked up from Severus, Lucius deduced. He maneuvered around his father to huddle beside his wife as Abraxas pulled down the blanket and performed a _lumos_ charm to lighten the room. His father bumped into him for the third time as Lucius was leaning over to get a good look, half expecting to see the baby pop out.

"Lucius, quit hovering!" Abraxas barked. "Go over there out of the way. And for God's sake, put on some pants! I don't need to see _that_ first thing in the morning."

Looking down in embarrassment, Lucius realized he was still nude, as he habitually slept. He scrambled around the bed and proceeded to get dressed while his father tended to Narcissa. As gently as he could with the woman thrashing and moaning, Abraxas managed to help her out of her underwear and check her dilation.

"Narcissa, how long have you been in labor?" he asked.

"Since—since about two—yesterday afternoon," she gasped.

He'd figured it had to be a while. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I—I thought—it was—false—_aaahhh_!"

"Lucius, call the midwife," Abraxas instructed. He could cast a spell to numb her pain, but he'd heard terrible tales of such spells adversely affecting the babies, even killing them.

"No—time!" Narcissa grunted. "Have to push!"

Not sure what he should do, not wanting to leave and miss the event, Lucius stood there glancing back and forth between them. "Can I help?"

"_I told you to call the midwife!_" Abraxas thundered, sending him running out the door.

Abraxas used his wand to slide her up on the bed, propped at a slight elevation. He'd need room to get between her legs. The very thought of the words made him blush like a young boy. Nonetheless, this baby was coming whether they were ready or not, he didn't have the luxury of acting childish over it.

Lucius came back into the room. "She said she'll be here in a few minutes, Father."

Without waiting to be told, Narcissa had begun bearing down, her groans resounding through the room. Lucius had come to stand by her shoulder, his hand stroking her sweaty head as he whispered loving and encouraging words. Tense, agony-filled minutes passed, punctuated with cries that made Lucius wince.

"The baby's crowning," Abraxas said softly, motioning his son over to look.

Indeed, the top of a furry blond head could be seen beginning to push through. Lucius stared in wonder. It was so real now, much more real than the life growing inside his wife had been when he could neither see nor truly feel it. An overwhelming rush of love washed over him. He'd always loved the baby from the moment he knew about it…now he was enthralled with the baby.

Sisidy came trotting in feeling pleased with herself, her hand clenching the midwife by her robes. "Master Lucius says medi-witch is coming here."

The woman wasted no time. To Abraxas' relief, she pushed him away to assess the situation. "Bring me warm water and clean cloths to wash the child. Narcissa, how are you doing?"

"Iiii—it hurts," she choked out.

Abraxas sent Sisidy out to fetch the requested items, then came to stand beside Lucius, who was at the foot of the bed staring dumbstruck at the scene.

"You're doing great, we have the head. Push, push hard with the next contraction."

Screams rang through the room.

"Good job, honey," cooed the woman, sliding her fingers in to work the baby's shoulder through. "Once more."

Another tremendous push thrust the blood-slick infant into the midwife's hands; she carefully eased him out and held him up. His mass of thin, whitish hair lay pasted to his head, except a few rogue licks that stood up like spikes. "It's a boy. Congratulations, you have a son." As the other three let out exclamations of joy, she set to the task of washing the writhing bundle with tender, skillful swipes.

Lucius veered around the woman to lean down and embrace Narcissa as a tear coursed from his eye. She was so strong, so perfect…all the pain she endured for their child! Their wonderful, precious child. "I love you, Narcissa. So very much."

"I love you, too," she returned weakly. "I want to hold him." _Him_. She'd given Lucius a proper heir. Everything would be alright now.

The midwife placed the boy, his umbilical cord still attached, onto Narcissa's stomach. She folded her arms protectively around him, taking in every detail of his features. He was long and fairly thin, his blond head smushed slightly from the birth, his bow shaped lips pursed as if in thought. "He's beautiful, Lucius, so beautiful. He has your eyes."

Sure enough, the round grey eyes staring up inquisitively at both of them mirrored those of his father. Abraxas reached over and the baby grasped his finger in a tight grip. He smiled, remembering how each of his children had done the same.

"Aren't you going to touch him, Lucius?" he asked.

"I thought babies cried when they were born," the young man said, positioning a finger for the child to grab with his other fist. The strength of this tiny being surprised him.

"Not always," said the midwife, who was now busy massaging Narcissa's abdomen to expel the placenta. "The ones like this tend to be curious and smart. And this boy is a cutie, too. What's his name?"

Narcissa and Lucius looked at each other and smiled.

"I don't know," said Narcissa. "We'd only settled on a girl's name, we couldn't agree on a boy's name."

Lucius chimed in with his drawl, "I doubt he'd appreciate being called Cleopatra."

"You were going to name her Cleopatra?" exclaimed Abraxas. "What were you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know, Father. I guess Malfoys have an affinity for exotic names. Does _Aphrodite_ sound familiar?" he smirked, putting forth his sister's name as an example.

"Point taken," conceded the other. "Congratulations, both of you, on a most precious son. Just so you know, tomorrow I'll begin to spoil him."

"Spoil him?" Lucius repeated. "You're the one who was always so concerned with making sure I wasn't coddled."

"Because you're my _son_. My job was to make you behave. This is my _grandson_, my job is to indulge him." He stroked the baby's cheek lovingly with one finger.

The infant mewled, his tiny mouth smacking. The medi-witch glanced up from what she was doing. "Sounds like someone's hungry. Let me show you how to feed him, Narcissa."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Justina knelt in the back lawn at Prince Manor a meter in front of Jacinta, a beach ball between them. Justina picked it up and addressed the toddler, who was sitting in the grass plucking up blades and trying to put them in her mouth while Julius grabbed them from her.

"Look, Jacinta. Stop eating the grass. Catch."

She lightly tossed the ball at the girl, whose arms extended to catch it. It smacked Jacinta in the face and bounced off, causing the baby to roar with laughter. She crawled at a rapid pace toward the ball, racing Julius. He snatched it up and deliberately bounced it off the top of her head.

"Julius, knock it off!" Severus shouted from the window of his grandparents' house.

"She thinks it's funny," the boy yelled back. When Severus took out his wand, his brother dropped the ball and ran around the corner of the house.

"Severus, put that away," his mother chided. "He's not hurting her, he'd never hurt her."

"He's a brat," Severus rejoined, lowering himself back into his chair.

His grandfather spoke up. "So, you're going to be a teacher, huh? I wouldn't have thought it."

"Me either," he agreed, before realizing everyone was staring quizzically at him. "I mean, I haven't even been interviewed yet. I like working for Philana, but I need to help out the family. If I get the job, I'll make a lot more money, we'll have more security."

The older man nodded thoughtfully. "You do what you need to do. I hear teaching is demanding and, as you know, sometimes the students act up. I hope you'll enjoy it."

_Not likely_, Severus thought.

Eileen smiled as she said, "And don't forget your brother and sister will be going to Hogwarts this year. You'll be their teacher!"

"Goody," he said snidely. "Am I allowed to beat them?"

His mother frowned, giving him a sour look. "That's not funny."

"You know, Severus, your grandfather happens to be rather adept at the Dark Arts," said his grandmother. "Since you're applying for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, perhaps you'll need spells to impress the Headmaster. I'm sure he'd show you."

Severus' eyes lit up. While his own repertoire of dark spells was quite extensive, he'd always jump at the chance to learn more. "Sure, grandpa. I'd like to see some of them."

"Severus! Mum!" Justina screamed, bursting in. "Look!" She pointed excitedly out the window.

Jacinta had been petting—to put it kindly—the family cat, only to yank its tail one too many times. It got up, moved off a distance, and laid back down to groom itself.

"Ki-ee," called the tiny girl. She pushed herself up onto her hands and feet, looking like a tent with her rear in the air, then slowly lifted upright, wobbling unsteadily, and took three steps before collapsing into the grass to crawl after the fleeing animal.

"She's walking!" Justina exclaimed, as if they hadn't seen it.

"Of course she is, she's my daughter," Severus drawled proudly, unable to tear his eyes off the tot, his chest bursting with pride. At thirteen months, he'd begun to worry if she'd _ever_ perambulate. Now she'd done so for _his_ family. Glenna and Jack may get to experience most of her 'firsts', but he had this one.

By evening, after he'd returned the child to Glenna—and bragged smugly that Jacinta had taken her first steps—he floo'd home to find a large, dark owl waiting for him. His initial reaction was that Lily had written, making his stomach leap, but he quickly dismissed it. She'd said she would respond to his letters, and he hadn't written to her. For her safety, he didn't intend to write. Quickly he untied the note from the majestic creature's leg.

_Dear Severus,_

_Congratulations, you have a godson!_

_Lucius_

He smiled and rolled the parchment back up. Turning to his mother he said, "Mum, I'm going to drop by Malfoy Manor for a few minutes. Narcissa had the baby."


	61. Chapter 61

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-One

Mateo had been gone from Spain for ages…maybe it only felt like ages. It was too long, at any rate; it was time to leave England. Besides, he didn't want to be in the way. Lucius had a newborn to care for, he didn't need distractions, nor did he need for Abraxas Malfoy to find out he'd been entertaining a vampire. Apparently the current patriarch wouldn't take kindly to the undead near his grandson. Go figure.

He dreaded facing Yadiro, yet he missed Tonia very badly. If the leader didn't know—and how could he—what Mateo had been up to during his rampage, there'd be no problem except the festering hostility between them. If Yadiro somehow _had_ found out about all the illicit blood he'd taken, he wouldn't be walking away from that beating any time soon. It was highly unlikely, but still… he hadn't killed anyone or turned anyone.

Letting out a breath of relief as he peeked into the great room, as unobtrusively as possible he slipped down the steps into the underground mansion, where three well trained servants immediately arrived to attend to him. He was about to brush them off, then asked, "Is Tonia here?"

One of them shook his head. "She's on watch duty."

That meant she'd probably be back at dawn, no point in hanging out here. He went on past into the hallway, turned back, and instructed, "When she gets here, send her to me." He started to leave once more.

"Would you like me to alert Yadiro that you've returned?"

Mateo halted abruptly. Propriety dictated he greet Yadiro before retiring, as a matter of respect, but he'd prefer to hold off on that confrontation for a while. One battle at a time.

"No, I'll speak with him later." He strode to his room and flopped onto the bed. It had been a strenuous flight, he was more tired than he cared to admit. Before he knew it, a rough hand was shaking him awake. He leaped upright, eyes wide but unfocused, fist swinging.

"That's a fine hello!" Tonia remarked with an edge in her voice, dodging the blow. "Then again, I shouldn't have expected anything else after you ran off and left me." Arms crossed over her chest, she glared at him. Even nettled, she was beautiful in his sight, with her brown curls resting on her heaving bosom, her pert lips in a sullen pout.

A warm sensation crept over him, along with a desire to devour those succulent lips. "Tonia, I missed you." When he extended a hand out to her, she backed out of his reach. "What's wrong?"

Her expression clearly showed her astonishment at being asked such a ridiculous question. What was _wrong_? She'd been abandoned by the one she—evidently mistakenly—thought felt as close to her as she felt to him, she'd been worried sick that something had befallen him, she'd heard not a word in over two months, and here he came traipsing in as if nothing had happened with the audacity to ask what was _wrong_?

"Answer me this, Mateo. Have you been with another female?" _Sangrista_ or human made no difference, either counted as a betrayal.

"No," he answered honestly, not quite understanding her attitude. He'd expected her to be as overjoyed as he was.

"Were you hurt or held captive against your will?"

"No," he said again. So that was it, she was peeved at his absence. "Tonia, come on. I've gone off lots of times for long stretches."

"Not while we were together, not without speaking to me," she retorted. "I'm glad you're well." She turned stiffly on her heel and stalked out the open door.

"Tonia, wait!" he called. She came to a standstill, lips pursed, foot tapping. "I'm sorry. I should've contacted you."

"You can do whatever you want, I don't care," she said evenly, not even looking at him. "We're through." With that she walked off.

A sick feeling swam around the pit of Mateo's stomach. She couldn't mean that! He bounded off the bed, dashed into the hall, and chased her down. He grabbed her wrist, twirling her around to face him, only to be met with a hard elbow across the chin that rocked his head and knocked him backward, forcing him to let go of her wrist.

"Don't. Touch. Me." Her scowl could melt a hole in a chunk of metal.

Nursing the jaw he was fairly certain was shattered, Mateo looked soulfully at her with his blue puppy dog eyes. "I didn't mean to upset you," he explained in a rushed mumble. "I was furious at Yadiro, I couldn't stay. If I came back to see you, he'd still be here—"

"Stop right there. Seems to me you've come back now, and Yadiro is still here," she clipped.

Good point. "I needed to see you, I couldn't stay away any longer."

"Why?"

It was Mateo's turn to look bewildered. Wasn't it obvious? The words slipped from him of their own volition, unchecked. "Because I love you."

A flicker of something passed in her eyes, then was gone. "Convenient to say, harder to prove."

"Let me prove it," he challenged.

Sneering ever so slightly in a way not unbecoming to her, Tonia extended her arms out to her sides as she said, "By all means, convince me I wasn't wrong to trust you, to spend weeks searching for you, to fear you'd been killed—" The sneer disappeared as her voice caught in her throat. She dropped her arms as she took a step backward, shaking her head. "I thought you were different."

"I don't know if I'm different," Mateo confessed, wanting to go to her but afraid she'd clobber him again. "I'm just me. It was selfish and stupid to go off for so long without contacting you, and I really am sorry. I won't do it again."

"You're assuming I care what you do, or that I'd be silly enough to give you another chance to…" _Break my heart_. She couldn't say it, couldn't let him know. "Mateo, I don't need this. I came here to be rid of my old cult, I don't regret that. We've gotten close, we're friends. Good friends. That's all we can be, I see that now. Don't spoil it by making promises you don't intend to keep."

"I never claimed to be perfect, Tonia, I never claimed to be anything. What I am is what you've seen all along, and you know if I tell you something, it's so."

Tonia reflected on this for a long moment. It was true, he didn't make false promises only to disappoint her, he didn't boast about himself. To the whole cult he was known for his honesty and integrity, he spoke his mind and heart…as she was sure he was speaking it now. Which meant he must really love her.

"You hurt me, you made me worry for you," she insisted stubbornly.

"I did. I beg your forgiveness," he answered, gazing at her earnestly, hopefully.

In response she sauntered up to him, grabbed him by the front of the robes Lucius had given him, and pulled him close to kiss him. He responded with an urgency he hadn't felt since he couldn't remember when. His arms encircled her as he lovingly, feverishly caressed her while they necked passionately.

"I forgive you—this time. Do it again and I'll make you pay," she whispered, then resumed smooching.

"Mateo, you're back," said a flat, familiar voice.

Mateo stiffened and broke away from Tonia, slightly embarrassed to be caught in the hallway like a couple of teenagers. "Diro," he said reflexively. In three steps he reached the leader, took his hand, and kissed it perfunctorily.

Yadiro, who'd observed the pair as he came down the hall, felt a little guilty to disturb their reunion, and simultaneously relieved and glad to have his friend back, though the attitude was hard to miss. After all this time the tension between them hadn't diminished, and while he could guess the reason for part of it, on the whole it confused and bothered him. "Have you anything to say to me?"

"No," replied the other, already easing back to stand beside Tonia. In the back of his mind he considered this a successful meeting—Yadiro hadn't attacked him, that was definitely a good sign.

The older vampire's dark eyes reflected a sadness beyond the weariness of the world, though his face revealed nothing. "As you wish." He moved back a little and veered down the corridor to his room. When Mateo was ready to speak to him, he'd be ready to listen.

"Mateo, you're still angry with him?" asked Tonia in surprise.

"It's complicated," said the other. "I don't want to talk about it. Let's go celebrate my homecoming."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Naming a baby shouldn't be a chore, certainly not cause for an argument…under normal circumstances. Those surrounding the birth of the Malfoy infant were anything but normal. This was to be their only child, he was the last of this Malfoy line. His name needed significance, it needed to generate respect, it—

"For heaven's sake, Lucius, have you lost what's left of your mind?" Narcissa shrilled. "_Caesar_? He's not an ancient Roman emperor!"

"And _Pyxis_ is sooo much better!" Lucius shouted back in a lazy snarl. "He's not a fairy!"

"It's a constellation," she snapped. "At least it isn't pompous like Primus or Solomonius!"

"I agree, something stupid, unpronounceable, and freakish is the prudent path," Lucius seethed. "What were those you came up with last night? Ah yes—Ophiuchus or Circinus. Hell, why don't we go for the gusto and name the kid 'Milky Way'? Can't top that!"

"You're being a total ass!" she retorted, throwing herself onto the bed to sulk. Her lower lip trembled and she averted her face from him.

Lucius took a few deep, calming breaths before sitting down beside her. He lifted one of her hands and began to play idly with her manicured nails as he spoke. He rather liked this green nail polish, reminiscent of a forest. "I just want him to have a dignified name, honey. Maybe I'm being too unyielding or even…loutish…in the way I've been behaving."

At first Narcissa didn't respond, making him wonder if he ought to try again. Then in a far away tone, as if recalling something from long ago, she said, "I'm not being a saint myself. If you didn't fight for your point of view, you wouldn't be my fierce dragon that I love."

Lucius smiled fondly. It had been ages since she'd called him that! "I remember the first time you said that to me."

"Yes, me too," she smiled back, glancing over at him. "When Sirius was making all those problems for us in school. And I also said when we had a baby, it would be—"

"Our little dragon," they said together. Their eyes locked, the identical thought striking them in the same instant. "Draco!" they exclaimed in unison, laughing.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Baby Draco's christening went off without a hitch; afterward the family and guests (kept to a minimum for simplicity's and sanity's sake) met back at Malfoy Manor for the requisite party in honor of the child, who attended the whole affair only briefly in the beginning while being baptized, and asleep in his mother's arms at home.

Lucius held up a hand for attention, then gestured over at his wife, who was clutching their son to her chest, staring down at the white-clad infant with adoration. The child shifted while smacking his lips as if enjoying a snack, then gave a fleeting grin. "I propose a toast to my son—forgive me, Narcissa, _our_ son—Draco Regulus Malfoy." When he lifted his champagne glass, the rest followed suit.

Everyone drank to the health of the new Malfoy heir, then to his mother, then to his father before Lucius convinced them to stop toasting and get on with mingling. Bella came wandering up as the guests went back to celebrating. A half empty glass of orange liquid sloshing in her hand came dangerously close to spilling on the priceless rug. "Cissy, how come you named him for Regulus? You could've named him after _me_."

Lucius choked on his gulp of champagne, which sprayed the floor in front of him, barely missing the woman. _She's doing it to vex you, control yourself_.

Narcissa smiled politely at her sister as Lucius collected himself enough to merely glare hatefully. "Bella, in case you weren't aware, you're a woman. Draco's a boy."

"So?"

"Maybe if we have a girl I'll consider it."

Placated, and satisfied she'd riled Lucius, Bellatrix smirked at him and sauntered over to where Rodolphus and Rabastan were wagering over the outcome of a Quidditch match. Severus gave her wide berth when he noticed her coming, excusing himself from the line of fire to go talk to Abraxas.

As a precaution against being overheard, an unnecessary maneuver as no one was watching them, Lucius crowded next to his wife. "_Dear_, I'll be ice skating on a pond in hell before I ever name a child of mine after your sister."

"Don't worry, _dear_," Narcissa replied as she lowered the baby into the bassinet set up in the corner of the room. "Severus warned against using the potion again. It's extremely unlikely we'll ever have a daughter."

The second Draco's head hit the pillow, his round gray eyes popped open and he began to wail. Narcissa lifted him back into her arms, cooing softly into his downy white hair. "Maybe he's hungry. I'll go in the parlor and feed him."

Her husband nodded absently. The kid wasn't hungry, he was demon possessed! Unless one of them was holding him at all times, he screamed bloody murder! Noting his father walking toward him across the room, he waited where he was for Abraxas to arrive. "How's the party, Father?"

"Top notch as always," responded Abraxas. "I've been waiting for the right moment; I think now is the perfect time to give you something, to fulfill the Malfoy tradition." A snap of his fingers summoned his cane, eliciting an involuntary grimace from his son. Abraxas held out the walking stick in both hands, palms up, offering it to Lucius. "This cane has been passed down for many generations from father to heir upon the birth of _his_ heir. Today I present it to my son."

Lucius accepted the object gingerly, slightly awed. All his life he'd watched his sire carry this with pride and dignity, too busy trying to stay out of the way of it to care about or really understand the significance of it. Now it came crashing down on him, the generations of family history, the custom unique to his own clan. "Thank you, Father."

With a wry smile Abraxas said, "You're twenty-four years old. I take it I won't be needing to use it on you any time in the foreseeable future."

"I should hope not," the young man replied sincerely. His sharp eyes ran over the surface, finding not a nick or scrape, to his surprise. After all the times it had seen action against his backside, it should be worn and scuffed! All at once he became pensive as he studied the polished wood. "Is it supposed to be a symbol of that, of the discipline I'm to impose on my son as you did on me?"

"I didn't think of it that way," his father confessed. "You could interpret it as such, perhaps. I only meant it as a gift, the passing of the torch, so to speak."

"Thank you, I appreciate it," said Lucius again. He glimpsed the bassinet and thought of his tiny little boy, so helpless and innocent. He couldn't imagine ever hitting Draco, let alone using the cane on him. "I doubt I'll be needing to use it as you had to."

"He won't be a baby forever, Lucius. Boys grow up, they get into trouble," advised the older man with a shake of his head. Way too much trouble for his liking! "Look at this, I don't believe I ever showed you this. I always carry my wand in my pocket, but my father carried his here." With a yank he pulled the serpent head free of the shaft of the cane, revealing a round, grooved tube embedded in the metal. "The wand fits perfectly."

Lucius took the serpent head to examine it, smiling and nodding to himself. Very clever! "I like that!" He drew his wand from his pocket and slid it into the groove, locking it into place, then reattached the head of the cane. Swiftly he snatched it up as though in a duel, aiming it across the room. "This is superb!"

"Indeed," said Severus dryly, coming over. "A new toy?"

"Don't you recognize it?" asked Lucius, shoving it in his face exactly like a child with a new toy.

Severus stepped back, looking down his nose at the walking stick only inches away. "Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy's cane. Why are you playing with it?"

"Father gave it to me. It's a tradition," he said, pretending he'd known all along that this was to happen. He set the cane on the floor, his hand grasping the serpent head, and assumed a jaunty pose. "How do I look?"

"Hmm, very dashing," Severus answered distractedly. "I thought I might warn you that Bella's been nipping into the punch, and given her tenuous emotional balance…"

"She's nutty as a Muggle fruitcake," Lucius concurred. He'd once seen a Muggle fruitcake that Severus brought over, validating the expression. "I'd approach her and kick her out, only she's liable to make good on one of her insane threats, and I rather like my genitals where they are."

"I'll see to it," Abraxas offered, knowing full well that Bellatrix had an irrational aversion to Lucius. At times it made his flesh creep to think she had a minor crush on himself, though. Even so, he'd best nip it in the bud. The last thing he needed was wand play over trivialities, or worse.

"Lucius, thank you for a wonderful time, and for making me godfather," Severus said. "I'm sorry to have to leave so soon, but I have to get up early tomorrow to take the kids shopping for their school supplies. I can't believe they're going to Hogwarts this year."

Lucius grinned slyly, yet said nothing in reply. He held out a hand, which Severus shook. "Thank you for coming, and it's our honor to make you our son's godfather. Don't be a stranger or the poor kid won't know you!"

"No worries there," Severus assured him. "Give Narcissa my regards." As was his custom, he went into an unused room and floo'd to his house, to find his mother and siblings in the living room unloading and excitedly examining a very large boxful of items. There were several new school uniforms for each of the twins, plus a set of books and cauldrons for each, and two new state of the art brooms. In a separate package inside the larger box were clothing and supplies for Jacinta, as well as a new set of dress robes and casual robes for Severus, and a lovely plum colored dress for Eileen.

His mother, mouth agape, stared around at the bounty before spying a note tucked at the bottom of the box. She read it and handed it to her dumbstruck son.

_A small token of appreciation for enriching our lives with Draco._

_Narcissa, Lucius, and Abraxas_

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

For early July it was a remarkably cold night, exacerbated by the misty rain that clung to hair and clothing like a film of chill. Severus Apparated into Hogsmeade for the first time since he'd left Hogwarts—for good, he'd thought at the time. But the master's orders were the master's orders, and he'd sooner leap naked and wandless into a dragon's pit than to disobey. He laughed mirthlessly to think he'd fare better in the dragon's pit.

Getting his bearings, he glanced around the nearly empty streets. Not remarkable with this odd weather to see few brave or foolish enough to wander about willingly. He walked a short space down the street, made a right, and continued on for two blocks. As a boy, he'd canvassed the whole of this town more than once, and his memory hadn't failed him. There it was, nestled in a rather shady area surrounded by equally shabby buildings, the Hog's Head. Not the most reputable place to hold interviews, he couldn't begin to guess why Dumbledore hadn't instructed applicants to go to Hogwarts.

Through the hazily lit night he saw a lumpy figure approaching from the opposite direction; automatically he flattened himself against the wall adjacent to the door and drew his wand. As the young man advanced on him, he recognized the face with a sickening jump of his stomach. Of their own accord his black eyes flitted around hastily, searching for the rest, and came up empty.

"Pettigrew," he spat, still in the shadows. The other halted in surprise, looking around for the speaker. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I came to apply for the job," Peter answered in a small voice, locking his gaze on the source of the voice, a shadowy figure who sounded somehow familiar.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" asked Severus.

"Yes." Peter took a step toward the door.

"Not just yet." Severus' wand extended out of the gloom, stopping Pettigrew in his tracks. "Seems to me if you're to teach children how to defend themselves, you should prove yourself worthy by defending _yourself_."

Before the rat-like man could respond, Severus had cast a simple hex that knocked him on his rear into a muddy puddle. He scrambled up, dripping wet and fuming, wand in hand. He shot an orange jet that quite frankly amazed Snape for its complexity as well as its origin in the Dark Arts, though he swiftly turned it aside.

"I didn't think you capable of such a spell," drawled Snape, smirking although Peter couldn't see it. "Obviously you and your fellow hypocrites dabble in the Dark Arts after all."

Severus' next hex grabbed Peter by the ankle and dangled him upside down in the air. "Familiar, Pettigrew?"

"S-Snape?" he whimpered. He hadn't dropped his wand, which he used to throw another curse at Severus. Snape was forced to abandon his torment to deflect the spell, causing Pettigrew to crash on his head and fall over on the slick street.

"Yes, it's me," Severus acknowledged, adding sarcastically, "Long time no see."

Peter got back to his feet, ostensibly heading for the door, then he swung round to cast another bolt of light at Snape, who turned it aside and countered with two rapid blasts. The first Pettigrew barely avoided, the second spun him in a full circle and slammed him against the wall, unable to move his limbs to free himself.

"Let me go," he pleaded.

"You and your filthy cohorts wouldn't have let me go," said Severus bluntly. "You'd torture me for others to laugh. Sadly, we don't seem to have an audience, and it would be a waste of my time to properly punish you."

A flick of his wand dropped Pettigrew to his knees; his wand fell from his hand and skittered across the pavement. "Please, Snape, it wasn't me! I never did anything, it was Sirius and James!"

In a cold, hard voice Severus replied, "You were there, you laughed along with the rest, you never made a move to stop it. Hardly what I'd call innocent."

"But I didn't _do_ anything," Peter whined.

If he weren't rushed, perhaps Severus would have continued playing with Pettigrew. As it stood, entertaining as this was, if he didn't haul his arse in there and obtain that teaching position himself, he'd suffer far worse than the rat man could hope to envision in his pathetic pea brain.

At last Severus shrugged one shoulder, curling his lip in distaste. "Leave. You have no skills that would aid you in acquiring the job, despite Dumbledore's preference for Gryffindorks. Even he would have to admit you're unfit to be a custodian at Hogwarts. If I catch you around again tonight, I'll finish what I started."

He kicked Pettigrew's wand over to him. Peter picked it up and Disapparated. Only then did Severus groan inwardly; the wretched dumbass would probably go fetch his malicious little buddies and come back for revenge! Nevertheless, he had a mission to accomplish, so he shook off as much of the misty rain as he could and went inside where it was every bit as dark as it was outside. At least it was dry.

To the waitress passing by he asked, "Have you seen Albus Dumbledore?"

She jerked her thumb behind her at a closed door at the back of the tavern. "Got some weird lady in there."

Another applicant? It couldn't hurt to listen to the questions he asked and gauge his responses to her answers, right? It might even give him an edge, let him know what Dumbledore wanted to hear. He hurried across the room, glancing about to see if anyone was watching. They didn't appear to be, so he sidled up to the door and leaned his ear against the wood.

The faint voice of Dumbledore said, "Miss Trelawney—"

"Please, I prefer Sybill," said the woman.

"Sybill, why are you applying for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts when you've just admitted to me that you don't feel comfortable in that realm?"

"There's always room to grow, Headmaster. I'd like the opportunity to overcome my own aversion to this field, and what better way than teaching young minds to overcome?" A bit theatrical, Severus thought.

"Well, that's certainly honest," Dumbledore acknowledged noncommittally. "Have you considered the possibility that you're not suited—"

He was cut off by a third voice, deep and guttural. Severus frowned slightly. The waitress hadn't mentioned anyone else in the room.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

"Here now! What're you up to?" snarled the bartender, grabbing Severus by the scruff of the neck and hauling him out of earshot. "We don't take kindly to eavesdroppers here! Don't think I won't be tellin' Albus what you were doin'!"

The burly man had no trouble bodily dragging Snape's scrawny frame across the floor, kicking open the door, and pitching him outside into the damp night. He stumbled and landed on one knee as the door banged shut behind him.

_Shit_! There was no way he'd be permitted back in, short of using the Imperius Curse on the man, not that it mattered now. He'd lost his opportunity to get the teaching position, he'd failed…or had he? That woman, the odd one—Trelawney, her name was. There'd been a famous seer of that name, most likely related. His excitement building, he deduced there hadn't been a third person in the back room, Trelawney had been making a prophecy, one that included the dark lord!

What had she said? He ran through her words in his mind over and over, oblivious to the rain streaming down his face. His heart raced with joy and dread. Someone who could conquer Lord Voldemort was coming! As a loyal servant, Snape had to tell the dark wizard about it, giving him warning. If he failed to do so, consequences would be dire indeed. Even so, it might hasten their battle. One way or another, the war could be over very soon! He got to his feet, elated, and Disapparated.


	62. Chapter 62

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Two

"Lord Voldemort!" Severus shouted, using the semi-forbidden name in his eagerness to gain attention the moment he Apparated at the castle. He broke into a run, his spindly limbs flailing under his damp cloak. "Master!"

A curious Bellatrix made the mistake of stepping into the doorway, a very poor move indeed. Severus plowed into her, unable to halt his momentum, and the two careened across the room before crashing to the floor, Severus astride the woman. With an incensed grunt she shoved him off onto the stones, rolled over, and jumped to her feet. If Snape had been a little slower, her kick would have caught him squarely in the gut. Fortunately for him, he dodged far enough for the sharp heel of her pump to only graze his leg.

When her wand came out, he put up his hands in surrender, getting slowly to his feet. "Bella, I need to see the master. It's urgent."

"About what?" she demanded, toying with the idea of blasting him into a hundred itty-bitty Snape pieces. Filthy halfbreed didn't deserve to be part of their group no matter what anyone said! So what if he'd brought the dark lord information and a few potions, he wasn't pureblood! And he'd dared _touch_ her, he'd probably done it on purpose to grope her, maybe even—

"Bella! Where is he?" Severus exclaimed to her glazed-eyed look.

"Put your wand away, Bellatrix," came Voldemort's high voice. Honestly, did they think he hadn't heard the ruckus? He wasn't deaf! Perhaps he ought to gather his Death Eaters for a pep talk on working cooperatively…right, who was he kidding? A few well-aimed curses always got fantastic results, no point in messing with perfection.

Bella huffed in an inaudible mumble as she did what she was told, slipping the wand somewhere down into the nether regions of her breast area. Severus fell to his knees, his garments heavy and uncomfortable from the rain which, he noted, didn't seem to be afflicting this location.

"My lord, I have news," he said in an eager voice, head still bowed.

"You've been successful in obtaining the post at Hogwarts," said the evil wizard in an imperious gloat. He'd harbored no doubts of Snape's ability.

"Uh, no, my lord," Severus answered meekly, visibly shrinking back. In his excitement he'd quite forgotten his command to get the job, which he'd utterly failed to do. Lest the master punish him forthwith, Snape continued hurriedly, "While-I-was-there-I-heard-a-prophecy-concerning-you."

In the jumbled mass of words, Voldemort managed to pick out 'prophecy', and not much else. Nonetheless, he'd heard the first part very clearly. Snape had fallen short, he'd taken the trust placed in him and crushed it into the ground! His wand raised to administer chastisement, when Severus bellowed again.

"Master, this prophecy is about you!"

Voldemort's hand paused, hovering, waiting. This had better be good, damned good! "What are you babbling about?" Bella, intrigued if still sulking, had come to stand beside her master, arms crossed, glaring at Snape.

"I was listening at the door while Dumbledore interviewed Sybill Trelawney. In the middle of his sentence, Trelawney broke into prophecy."

"What did she say?" Voldemort queried, leaning forward just a bit, red eyes fixed upon him. "Give me the exact words."

"'The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'" Severus quoted, cautiously raising his eyes to see the dark wizard listening intently.

"Yes?" prompted Voldemort, expecting him to go on.

A nervous twitch tugged at the corner of Snape's mouth, making him grin sheepishly as he braced for his punishment. He'd hoped this amount of the prophecy would suffice to mitigate the consequences of losing the teaching position. He should have known better. "That's all I heard, my lord. I was dragged away and thrown out of the establishment."

A tremendous roar of fury sounded throughout the castle, sending a wave of terror through both people in the room with him. Voldemort stomped back and forth ranting, "How much more was there? Who is this person? How could anyone dare try to vanquish _me_, the most powerful dark wizard the world has ever seen? If another existed, surely we would know of him!"

Bellatrix wisely made herself scarce, backing up slowly and slinking out when his back was turned, leaving Severus kneeling on the hard stone floor waiting for the wrath to strike him. Beneath him the stones had become drenched from the water dripping off his wet cloak and robes, making it slick and all the more unpleasant. Drying it, or doing anything else with his wand would be suicidal at this point, so he hunched miserably and waited. Minutes ticked by while the master paced in front of him, enraged, then suddenly spun on him and addressed him.

"How much more was there?" asked the dark lord again.

"I don't know, master," Severus whispered, wishing he could escape as the obnoxious slut had done.

Voldemort whirled around, his robes swishing into Severus' face. He took a few steps away, lost in thought. "Born to those who have thrice defied me," he mused to himself. With a slight rise in spirits he thought, _It can't be Dumbledore!_ Up to now, he'd concentrated on the idea that a witch or wizard was coming, someone who could defeat him. The only someone capable of that, to his knowledge, was Dumbledore, though he'd never admit it. Yet, if this person was _born to those who had defied Voldemort_, it necessarily left Dumbledore out of the picture!

That solved who it _wasn't_. If he could figure out who this prophesied person was, he could arrange to ambush him or her before the other had the chance to lash at him. As Voldemort had been around for a respectably long time, it was entirely possible that someone had been born to those who'd defied him in the past. That list alone could take weeks to sort through. But _thrice_ defied…that list was inevitably much shorter, as those irritants usually didn't live that long.

"A wizard or witch born in July—the end of July, born to parents who defied me," the dark lord ruminated aloud. "If I go back seventeen years and more—"

"My lord?" asked Severus. He'd not had time to think through the prophecy, not really, and this was hardly the ideal situation for rational thinking.

"The age of majority," explained Voldemort. "If this wizard is to _defeat_ me," he scoffed, "he must be more than a child, mustn't he?"

"I would assume so," agreed Snape, shifting his weight on the stones.

Voldemort glanced over at his follower without pity. He'd brought him important information, yes—but incomplete information. He ought to make him kneel there all night! Frankly, though, he was tired of looking at him. "You've been a faithful servant, Severus. You may go."

"Thank you, master," he said, rising gingerly to ease the kinks from his legs. He headed outside and Disapparated before the dark lord changed his mind.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Snores, soft and steady, emanated from two sources: breathy, gentle, adorable snores from the baby swaddled in a bright green blanket; deeper, louder snores from his father, who held the bundle cradled in one arm as he sat motionless in the nursery rocking chair, clad only in scarlet pajama bottoms, his long hair hanging loosely over his bare chest. With each exhalation Lucius' head dropped a notch lower toward his chest. A sudden snort jerked his head up, and the infant wriggled about with a disgruntled cry.

"Shhh," said Lucius sleepily, half open eyes peering blearily down at the tiny face scrunching up in preparation to blow. "Please don't cry, Draco, you're driving me insane."

Draco studied the man's features, taking several shallow breaths, revving up for the explosion, but when his father tenderly stroked his cheek and hair, he settled for a series of whimpers, then closed his eyes once more.

"Good boy," Lucius mumbled, pressing his unclad foot on the floor to rock the chair. "What's that?" A warm sensation was spreading across the arm holding his son; the sensation became cooler as the air hit it. "You didn't."

Lucius heaved an exhausted sigh. Draco was a month old, why did he still cry all the time? Why didn't he sleep through the night? Why wouldn't Narcissa listen to reason and allow the house elves to care for the baby _at night_, at least? Even his own father seemed to be conspiring against him in his refusal to give Draco a potion to make him sleep…some malarkey about disapproving of drugging his grandson who, evidently, had just _peed_ on his sire.

Very slowly, taking great care not to create too much motion, Lucius stood up and carried Draco to the changing table. He'd never actually changed a diaper, though he'd watched Narcissa do it—and once, Abraxas had even changed Draco's soiled nappy, surprising Lucius immensely with his skill. If they could do it, certainly he could, and there was no one here to watch or criticize.

He unwound the blanket and held it out at arm's length, noting the huge wet stain. The kid had a big bladder, that's for sure! Into the laundry basket it went. Now he could clearly see the urine stains creeping up the pajamas on Draco's chest. Whisking them off, he dropped them into the basket as well.

"Now I understand why Muggles in some countries let their spawn go naked," he muttered, unpinning the cloth nappy. No Muggle disposables for a Malfoy!

While in principle he agreed with his wife that cleaning spells weren't as effective as pure water, she wouldn't need to know about this one time, it wasn't like Draco would contract diaper rash from one little spell. Taking his wand from his pajama pocket where he'd stowed it as he stumbled in from his room to console the screaming child, he magically slid the sodden diaper out from under the infant to plop it into a separate bucket, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"_Scourgify_." There, all clean. "Learn to do magic while you're young, son, it'll make growing up much easier."

In answer, Draco let loose another stream of urine that shot up into Lucius' face.

"Ah!" he shrieked, shielding himself as he jerked quickly away, his back catching more and funneling it into his pajamas. "What an evil whelp you are," he scolded crossly. "Do you know who I am, young man?"

Draco cooed and started to laugh. Lucius scowled, recalling his own father's remark that this frequently happened with boy children, and that he ought to get used to it, seeing as children continue to piss on their parents in assorted ways for the rest of their lives. Hardly what he'd call encouraging.

"_Scourgify_," he grumbled again, first at himself, then at the boy. "I'm a Death Eater, we don't put up with this kind of crap, changing diapers for ungrateful urchins."

He approached the table, snatching a clean nappy from the shelf below Draco. Firmly taking the boy by the ankles, he lifted him and slid the cloth under him. So far so good. "Stop playing with yourself, Dragon, Malfoys aren't so uncouth."

He pulled the baby's hand away from his crotch, flipped the diaper over him, and quickly pinned it up with a charm of his wand. Good enough. Next time he made a mess it would be someone else's responsibility.

Lifting his son up, he examined him ruefully. Not the best job he'd ever seen, but it was late and he was inexperienced…and with any luck he'd stay that way. "I'm going to bed, son, and so are you. No more crying, peeing, pooping, screaming, vomiting…" He ticked off the words on his fingers. Had he forgotten any? As if it would matter!

He headed for the dreaded crib, feeling the child tighten in his arms as he started to lower him in. Whines were rapidly becoming full blown cries. "Why do you hate this crib? Do you have any idea how much it cost?" Ear splitting wails were his reply.

With a sigh of defeat, he picked up the child and stormed off down the hallway to his own room where Narcissa slept peacefully on her side of the bed. _Not for long_, he thought smugly, placing Draco in the middle between them and crawling in on his own side. _When he starts to howl, Narcissa can deal with him._ He covered himself as he arranged the blanket over Draco, then lay down to await the bellowing. Silence.

_Why isn't he crying? I'm not holding him, Narcissa's not holding him. Has he stopped breathing?_ Suddenly alarmed, Lucius peered over through the darkness to see Draco's arms spread wide, his fist brushing his mother's back. His other hand reached out to grasp onto Lucius' finger. And he was smiling.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The forest wasn't an ideal place for a fight, what with the underbrush and fallen branches to trip over, nor was it where Mateo had hoped for the inevitable confrontation with Yadiro, as if he'd hoped for it at all. He'd managed to avoid the leader for all intents and purposes; when he couldn't, he exercised a cordiality bordering on brusque. Eventually it had to come to a head, as it did one night when he was on watch duty. Yadiro came flying over the trees, then dived down and landed only meters away, his face infuriatingly expressionless.

"Diro, is there a problem?"

"Apparently so," replied the leader. "Why don't you tell me what it is?"

Mateo shrugged indifferently, turning his back. Wrong thing to do. Buitrago spun him around, clenching Mateo's shirt in his fist, his bared teeth inspiring fear.

"This ends _now_!" growled Yadiro. "I'm tired of this tension between us. It not only affects _us_, it spoils the atmosphere for everyone else in the mansion. Whether you care about this is irrelevant, because I'm ordering you to get your complaint out in the open."

Mateo took hold of Yadiro's wrist and wrenched the other vampire's hand off of him, ripping the material of his shirt. "Is that a new rule? We now have to play nice or suffer your wrath?"

Yadiro marginally stopped himself from whacking Mateo upside the head. "Do you have a problem with me being leader? Do you think you can do better?"

Tempted to say yes, Mateo hesitated long enough to truly absorb the questions. In all honesty, he'd never heard of or met a greater cult leader than Diro. He had no desire to assume the role, nor had he the fortitude necessary to do what must be done when a _sangrista_ strayed into perfidy, especially violations meriting death.

"No, Diro. I don't want to be leader, which is why I'm pissed, and you should understand that!" he seethed. "You forced _me_ to perform _your_ job because you were vexed with me, and that sucks! It's not right!"

"So I abuse my power?"

"Sometimes, maybe—yes." Mateo held his friend's hard gaze, unwavering.

Buitrago's dark eyes narrowed a touch. "Should I forego upholding our laws?"

"No, you should enforce them _yourself_! It wasn't my place to stake Porfirio, it was yours! Being leader doesn't give you the right to punish us cruelly under threat of expulsion!" Mateo broke off, panting with emotion. Yadiro opened his mouth to answer, but Mateo continued to rant over him. "I thought we were friends, but we're not! You're the leader, I'm the subordinate, my opinion means nothing, my feelings mean nothing!"

In all honesty, he fully expected to be assaulted by now for his disrespectful, albeit heartfelt, assertions. He wondered why Yadiro just stood there staring at him.

For his part, Yadiro felt paralyzed by the vicious, blunt assessment of their relationship and of his skills as a leader. Difficult decisions had to be made, penalties had to be meted out, he had no choice in the matter. If he failed to do his job, the cult would eventually collapse…yet Mateo was accusing him of that very thing, of shirking his duty, foisting it off on his friend out of anger. And hadn't he done so?

At the same time, how could Mateo charge him with not valuing him? He asked his opinion a lot. Not to mention Yadiro was aware of reported bitings in his territory that some humans attributed to vampires. In the scheme of things, these kinds of reports came along on a fairly regular basis, although a particularly blatant attack on two humans at a nightclub with no attempt made to conceal intentions gave Yadiro pause. On the one hand, he strongly suspected Mateo of that attack, of acting out in his rage. On the other hand, he hadn't asked Mateo about it because he knew he'd get a true response. He genuinely didn't want to know because knowing might mean he'd have to punish him for taking blood this way. Didn't that prove he cared?

"What do you want me to say?" asked Buitrago, choosing his words delicately. "I won't apologize for upholding our laws. However, perhaps it was inappropriate for me to coerce you into staking Porfirio. Are you happy?"

"Not really," said Mateo with a shake of his head. "Because things aren't going to change. You're only saying it to try to placate me."

"What else am I supposed to change?" demanded Yadiro. "I won't make that mistake again, isn't that what you wanted to hear?"

Mateo threw his hands up in the air, looking up into the sky in frustration. "You don't get it. We've known each other for _three hundred f-king years!_ We used to be like brothers, only lately I feel like one of the pack, like my input means no more to you than anyone else's, even someone you barely know. Undoubtedly it sounds childish to you, since you constantly harp—never mind." He whirled to walk away.

Yadiro's strong hand grasped his arm and turned him around. Instinctively Mateo lashed out, catching Buitrago on the jaw with his fist and staggering him; however, because Yadiro still clutched Mateo's arm, he was able to steady himself, then retaliated with a hard strike to the solar plexus that threw Mateo several meters backward to collide with a tree. Yadiro was on him in a second, his hand pressing on Mateo's throat, choking him, his lips drawn back in a snarl. All at once he let up and stepped back, allowing Mateo to fall gasping to the earth on hands and knees. When the blond vampire looked up at him, he fully anticipated a hate-filled glare and a smartass remark.

His dismay was obvious upon seeing his friend's bewildered, wounded countenance. He dropped to his knees in front of him. "Mateo, I'm sorry, I truly am. I thought you were attacking me."

"Well, I wasn't. It was reflex," Mateo said coarsely as he massaged his throat. "This is what I meant, we're not like we used to be. You don't even know me anymore. And I'm not sure I want to know you."

Guilt overtaking him, Yadiro helped Mateo up. His body would heal quickly, that wasn't the problem; regaining a semblance of their friendship was the problem. "You're right. We've been like brothers for so long I take our friendship for granted. I don't know what to say."

_How about you're an asshole_? Mateo thought, fuming.

Yadiro rambled on, not even sure if Mateo was listening. "I know what you're like, I should have taken into consideration your feelings about execution, and I hurt you by doing that more than I understood until now."

"Why did you do it at all?" Mateo exclaimed. "It wasn't like I let him free out of spite or maliciousness, I had no time to ascertain the facts, yet you punished me for it!"

Head down, Buitrago muttered almost to himself, "If I'm honest with us both, I was making an example of you at the same time I made an example of Porfirio." He paused, feeling like an utter jackal. "I was wrong to do that."

"Yes, you were," agreed Mateo, tight lipped. It was so rare for Yadiro to admit a mistake, he didn't quite know how to react.

"I apologize from my heart," said Yadiro, pressing his hand to his chest and bowing. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't like the way it is with us now," confessed Mateo. "You tell people I'm your right hand man, yet you don't act like it. Half the time I wonder if you say it from habit or to please me, but you don't mean it."

"I do mean it," answered Buitrago in all sincerity. "Maybe I don't listen to or act on everything you say, but I value your opinion. You know very well I rarely ask for help or advice from others, yet how often have I sought you out? When it comes right down to it, if I had to leave the cult for a time, I would put you in charge. There's no one else I'd trust with that."

Only the wind whistling through the tree tops, rustling the leaves, made a sound. Mateo and Diro had fought before, but never had Diro revealed something as momentous as this: he'd entrust the cult to Mateo, with all the intricacies and responsibilities it entailed. He really did see him as an equal…an equal who still had to answer to him. Mateo felt a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I guess that's all I had to gripe about. It's done, as far as I'm concerned we're okay," he said, stepping in for a short embrace.

"Good," answered Yadiro, slapping his back, then kissing each cheek as was custom in his time. "Then I'll see you at dawn."

Mateo nodded. "Guess so."

"There's something I want to discuss with you about Lord Voldemort," Yadiro commented, making Mateo's ears prick up. "When I was there last—looking for you, I might add—I discovered he has a new ally whose actions may be of interest to your relative." On that note, he leaped into the air and flew off.


	63. Chapter 63

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Three

Voldemort was in a good mood. Lucius could tell by the creepy, cruel smile that looked a bit less evil than usual—that, and the fact that he'd been at the castle for all of five minutes and none of the more than thirty Death Eaters had so far been singled out for torture.

Lucius stood steadfastly in his place in the circle next to Severus, both in robes and masks like the rest, making them sweat profusely in the sweltering mid-July afternoon heat. Were they waiting for another arrival? Fidgeting being frowned upon, the group of them waited patiently and unmoving as the sun beat down mercilessly on their black hoods. There were a lot of things worse than being hot, and the greatest one was parading right in front of them.

"My friends," Voldemort began at last, extending his arms out to them, that flesh-crawling smirk widening. So white was his skin it appeared to glimmer in the sunshine. "It's so good to see my servants together again. We don't have enough of these meetings."

No one dared contradict him. _One big freaking happy family_, Severus thought subversively, rolling his eyes. Lucius settled for grimacing behind his mask.

"Take off your masks, let me look upon my Death Eaters," ordered the dark lord. A flurry of movement removed the wretched stifling things. "First off, I wish to commend Dolohov and Mulciber for their exemplary display of terror. Surely you've all heard of the two Muggle families with their mudblood brats who were done away with last week."

A murmur ran through the circle. Naturally everyone had heard, it had been all over the news for days, how the families had been tortured, probably for hours before being murdered. From the nods and smiles going around, the overwhelming majority of Death Eaters obviously heartily approved. One began to clap; soon the applause spread throughout, encompassing Malfoy and Snape as well. Here at the castle, sentimentality or lack of proper zeal could be deadly.

"Also," continued Voldemort in an almost giddy tone, "I commend Travers, the Lestrange brothers, and Macnair for yesterday's bus crash that killed eighteen Muggles. Well done!" This time the dark wizard led the applause while the men involved grinned like idiots and puffed out their chests.

Bella's bony fist shot out sideways, catching her husband on the thigh. He winced. "How come I wasn't invited to go?" she whispered peevishly.

Lucius snatched a glimpse at Severus, long enough to see through his stony façade. While no one could accuse him of being a wet blanket, nor did he seem particularly fervent in his show of support. They both sincerely hoped this wasn't turning into a celebration party in which they'd be expected to revel like the others. Or worse, maybe it was pumping them up in preparation for a series of raids, presumably to see who could out-murder the rest.

Now Voldemort held up a hand and the applause and cheering stopped in an instant. "Let us not forget our friend Snape, a most loyal servant who has thus far provided us valuable potions and information, not the least of which was to spy on that old fool Dumbledore and bring me a prophecy that may determine the course of this war."

Hushed, astounded silence as all eyes fixed curiously, disbelievingly on Severus. A few craned their necks to see past their comrades. Snape stared intently at the master, determined not to show any discomfort or emotion at the unwanted attention. "I can only hope it brings a speedy end to the war, my lord."

As Voldemort walked around the circle observing the faces of his followers, he smirked again. He had to wonder if their shock stemmed from the news of a prophecy or the person who'd brought it. "I see you wish to know this prophecy." They all nodded vigorously, a few even voicing their unbridled desire. Even Lucius, Voldemort noted with a rush of pleasure, appeared as startled and inquiring as the rest. It spoke well of Severus that he'd not mouthed the prophecy abroad, even to friends. "It seems there exists a witch or wizard who will attempt to vanquish me. This person was born at the end of July, to parents who thrice defied me."

It simply boggled the minds of the gathered Death Eaters to contemplate anyone willing to fight—let alone capable of fighting—the dark lord. Surely no one could prevail! It was suicide! They stood there open-mouthed, gaping at the very proposition. Voldemort continued his stroll, regarding his minions as he pulled three pieces of parchment from a pocket of the robe billowing around his sparse frame. As he passed, he paused three times to hand parchments to astonished followers whose hands trembled with trepidation.

"Rookwood, Yaxley, Malfoy, I'm placing you in positions of either high esteem or lowly nothingness. The names on these papers represent all those who've crossed me in any fashion over the years, no matter how banal, and lived to tell about it. Those with an asterisk have done so more than once. Utilize your Ministry resources to find out if these people birthed children around the end of July. If so, who and where are the whelps, and how old. Understood?"

"Yes, master," and "Yes, my lord," mingled together in muttered agreement. Enthusiasm was hard to come by. This was no easy task, nor simple, not with superiors liable to question the reasons for researching and checking up on a laundry list of persons, thereby guaranteeing that the bulk of the work must be done after hours when the other workers had gone home. No one looked forward to what would likely prove to be weeks of fruitless searches—without pay, on their own time—only to come up empty and probably be punished by Lord Voldemort as compensation for their trouble.

Whether Voldemort sensed their reluctance remained a mystery. He delivered scathing you'd-better-not-fail-me glares to each man, yet his wand hadn't yet leaped into his hand and begun firing. They dropped their gazes to the ground with more mumbling along the lines of doing their best and thanking him for selecting them for such a critical task.

"Severus!" the dark lord boomed, drawing out the 's' in a way that reminded Snape of a talking serpent. "When you were at Hogwarts you looked into Dumbledore's pensieve, you saw him inviting your classmates to join his pathetic Order of the Phoenix. Refresh my memory, what were their names?"

Not believing for a second that the dark lord had forgotten the names, Snape replied with alacrity, "James Potter—" Numerous hisses cut him off until the master snapped his fingers once and they grew silent. "Sirius Black—"

"Blood traitor bastard!" Bellatrix roared, her pretty face contorted into a snarl.

"Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin." For the life of him he didn't know why he felt guilty adding Lupin to the list, except the werewolf had never actually pranked him or attacked him. At times he even had his doubts as to whether Lupin had truly been a willing participant in Severus' near death in the Shrieking Shack. Nevertheless, he'd been part of _them_, he'd been there to laugh and encourage the scum…why _should_ he feel guilty? Besides, if he left him out, the master would know.

Voldemort took his place in the empty spot at the head of the circle. "My Death Eaters, you have the names of four of our greatest enemies. This war is escalating, it's time to step it up not only against Muggles and mudbloods, but against the cancer of aurors and Order members. We need to actively search them out and destroy them. Along that vein, we have a special treat today." That frightening smile was back, along with an insane gleam in his red eyes.

As if on cue, Dolohov and Avery hustled into the castle, to return shortly with a bound woman floating between them, moving by the magic of Avery's wand. Both of them grinned maliciously from ear to ear in anticipation of what was to come. Others, sensing what this meant, let out shouts of elation, while Severus and Lucius braced themselves for the inevitable.

Lucius had seen terrible things at these meetings, had participated in them himself too often to feel squeamish anymore; he'd resigned himself to it long ago, to the point that the thought of others torturing this woman affected him not at all. While he tended to refrain from overtly ghastly torments himself, he always made sure his efforts were worthy of a Death Eater. When all was said and done, if this witch and those like her would work for pureblood rule and chasing mudbloods back to the Muggle world where they belonged, none of this would be necessary. They brought it on themselves.

Unlike his friend, Severus had seen fewer of these meetings…play dates, if you will. Using Occlumency to shield his thoughts, he brooded over what was to come. Not being a pureblood, he logically could not condone such treatment based on blood; those based on punishing an enemy he could understand, if not completely agree with or in any way enjoy to the extent some of these maniacs did. He fleetingly considered asking Lucius in private how he felt about involving himself, but changed his mind. He'd prefer not to know if Lucius enjoyed it, though he doubted it very strongly since the man had tried rather hard to convince Severus not to join the Death Eaters, their cruelty being one reason he cited.

Voldemort held up both hands, his red eyes twinkling madly like a perverse version of Dumbledore. "You know the rules. Everyone gets a turn, no killing curses or other deadly hexing. Bellatrix, you may begin."

Bella squealed and made a tiny jump of glee, nearly giggling. "Thank you, master." Her joyful expression turned bitter and cold as she faced the helpless woman shouting for mercy precisely as the curse struck her. Clothing and hair went up in a blast of flame; the ropes binding her dropped to the ground.

A moment later the fire was extinguished by Voldemort, who directed a caustic remark to the Death Eater beside him. "I said no killing hexes!"

"It wouldn't have killed her…immediately," Bella said meekly, bowing her head as she chewed her lower lip and looked up sidelong at him.

The dark lord sniffed. He couldn't fault Bellatrix for wanting to kill the scum, and he admittedly did find her eagerness and the victim's howls arousing. Still, he'd given an order, and if he didn't think of Bella as his most loyal, devoted servant, he'd turn her over his knee right here in public, teach her a well deserved lesson. Then again, what was stopping him from doing it later? He pointed at Rodolphus to take his turn, while he studied Bella, watching her squirm under his intense stare. Four more Death Eaters shot curses at the screaming, blood-covered woman before Voldemort stepped over to gaze down at her.

"Dorcas Meadowes, Order of the Phoenix member. My friends, lest you think Meadowes came along quietly, she fought three of your comrades, injuring one of them, before they captured her." To the woman he sneered, "Not so gung-ho now, are you?" He laughed in a high pitched cackle; the Death Eaters laughed with him. "Tell me the names of other Order members."

"Go—to—hell," she panted. Her hair hung in singed clumps around her battered face, her body bruised and bleeding, yet she remained defiant.

Expecting nothing less, the dark lord shrugged, stepped aside, and motioned to Snape, who cast a basic spell that covered Meadowes in boils. Disappointed at his lack of complexity, several of his cohorts decried his efforts as pitiful. If he'd had his druthers, he'd merely kill the poor woman and be done with it, put her out of her misery, he felt nothing but revulsion for torture.

After Severus came Lucius, feeling the pressure to make up for Severus' feeble show. He levitated Meadowes high into the air overhead, then proceeded to dispassionately flip her several times like a pancake, each time allowing her to fall through the air a bit with the accompanying screams before catching her, flipping her over, and raising her back up. The other Death Eaters roared with laughter and pleasure. At length he brought her down and set her in the middle of the throng, hoping this session wasn't going to take too long. He was scheduled to meet Narcissa for an early supper in Vertik Alley.

Next came Goyle, the third person so far to invoke the Cruciatus. While ordinarily a crowd pleaser, this being no exception, the master said in a nasty tone, "Try to use your imagination, people! I'd like to see more than the Cruciatus."

This of course led to the Death Eaters trying to outdo each other in their attempts to satisfy the dark lord, who positively glowed at their renewed barbarity. Twice more he interrupted the festivities to approach Meadowes and demand names of Order members or other information. Once she mumbled, "Dumbledore," to which he snidely retorted he already knew that. The torture resumed.

It was Mulciber's turn. Smiling savagely, he aimed his wand. A jet of blue shot out, striking the already incapacitated woman. Before their eyes, each of her shoulder and hip bones popped out of their sockets, causing her to shriek and scream uncontrollably as she lay helpless on the ground, her useless limbs sprawled about her. Congratulatory shouts rang out, along with expressions of praise for an exceptional performance.

Severus watched stoically, his mind reeling back to a time at Hogwarts when he'd battered Mulciber's son Jack—very lightly compared to what was happening here. Though he and Jack had their differences, he couldn't help but be grateful for Jack's AND Jacinta's sakes that he'd been rejected by his crazy, sadistic bastard of a father. Even if Jack had suffered terribly at the man's hands—and Severus knew well he had—at least he'd not been drawn into becoming a Death Eater, he'd been spared becoming a sadistic bastard himself. Sure, he'd had his moments in school when he'd played pranks, but nothing compared to what his father was evidently capable of.

"Give me names, Meadowes, and I'll ease your pain," cooed the dark lord, bending over her, speaking softly, gently in an attempt to look magnanimous.

"F-Frank and Alice—Longbottom," she gasped, tears streaming down her bloody, sweat covered, grimy face.

"Aurors," mused Voldemort, backing up. True to his word, he pointed his wand and her limbs snapped back into place. Another spell virtually eliminated her pain, at which she sobbed all the harder at having given up her friends.

"There, see? Lord Voldemort is a man of his word. As such, I'm afraid I must permit my Death Eaters their turns, as promised." He grinned malevolently as he called out the next man's name.

By the time everyone had been given a chance to torment Meadowes, it became clear she had no intention of betraying anyone else. She endured the torture with redoubled courage, which the Death Eaters found most annoying and distasteful. They wanted a show and she was spoiling it!

Bored with it all, Voldemort raised his wand once more. "_Avada kedavra_. Dolohov, take the body and drop it outside her home with this note." He handed over a paper he conjured out of the air, on which was written _Compliments of Lord Voldemort, Slayer of the Resistance._ "The rest of you are dismissed."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Vertik Alley bustled with people, though the bulk of the crowd had thinned considerably. Lunch was over, dinner for most wouldn't be for another hour or two, yet the smells of a wide variety of foods wafted through the open air. Narcissa sauntered along proudly pushing her pram with Draco nestled inside, thoroughly welcoming and delighting in the comments of women who simply had to come over for a look at the infant.

"Oh, isn't he precious!"

"What a doll!"

"Handsome devil, like his father."

Narcissa smiled and sweetly agreed with them. Speaking of which, where was Lucius? If he'd forgotten their date, he'd rue the day! To pass the time, she selected a restaurant that served Greek cuisine and seated herself outside at one of the tables. It felt refreshing to get away from the stuffy, posh places Lucius normally took her. She was bent over the carriage tickling Draco's tummy and talking nonsense to him when a hand jerked on her robes.

"Ciss-Ciss," a toddler's voice shrieked.

Narcissa looked down in consternation at Jacinta smiling up at her, one of the child's hands playing with Narcissa's robe, the other tugging at the single ponytail on top of the tot's head. "Jacinta, where did you come from?" Her initial instinct was to glance about for Severus, who was nowhere in sight.

A frantic Glenna came running into view, looking wildly around until her eyes lit on the girl. She made a beeline for the child and scooped her up into her arms, scarcely stifling a sob. "Don't ever run off like that, sweetie, you scared mama half to death." The tears perched in the corners of her eyes, her thumping heart, and the lump in her throat all attested to the veracity of her statement.

"Mama, Ciss-Ciss," announced the girl, pointing at Narcissa, oblivious to her mother's anxiety.

"Narcissa, I'm sorry to bother you," Glenna said, trying unsuccessfully to smile. "My daughter was there one second, then suddenly gone, I…"

"I understand, Glenna. I'd be hysterical if anything happened to Draco." She glanced over at the boy, stroking his head lovingly, to be rewarded with a toothless grin.

"Congratulations on your son," said Glenna. "He's adorable."

"Thank you. He looks like his father." She gestured to the seat across from her. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Well, I…I'm meeting Jack. He doesn't exactly approve of…" She trailed off.

"Severus is a dear friend of the family, but just because Severus and Jack are jealous of each other doesn't mean you and I need to harbor animosities, does it?" Narcissa smiled, motioning again at the chair.

Glenna settled herself into it, only to have Jacinta thrashing to be let down. Gently she lowered the tot to the cobblestones, took her wand, and cast a perimeter spell around them to prevent the girl from wandering off again; once she reached the limit of her boundary, she'd be unable to go further.

"Narcissa, you haven't told anyone about Jacinta, have you?"

"Of course not. Only my husband and his father know, but they've known all along." Silently she observed the little girl toddling around them and meandering under the table without having to bend down, the ponytail on top of her head scraping the underside of the table. Her light brown hair and blue eyes were enough like Jack's to throw people off the track, unless one looked closely at the _shape_ of her eyes, of her petite, delicately hooked nose.

"Baby, mama!" exclaimed Jacinta, peering into the carriage, nearly knocking it over in her attempt to touch baby Draco with her short arms.

Glenna and Narcissa grabbed for the pram at the same time, steadying it. "Leave the baby alone," Glenna instructed in a tone that brooked no nonsense. Obediently Jacinta withdrew her hand, though she continued to stare over the edge in fascination, with Draco staring back at her with intense grey eyes, unaccustomed to seeing a human nearly as small as himself.

"Are you here alone?" asked Glenna.

"I'm meeting Lucius. He seems to be late."

"And they say women are the ones always late," Glenna replied, cracking a genuine smile. She honestly had never pictured herself sitting with Narcissa Malfoy having an actual conversation. "Jack was due twenty minutes ago."

"What about me?" said a man's voice. Jack walked up from behind Glenna, eyeing Narcissa warily. He put a hand on his wife's shoulder as he leaned over to kiss her. Straightening he said, "Hello, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You needn't be so formal," responded Narcissa.

"I barely know you," he insisted stiffly.

"Shall I call you Mr. Mulciber?"

Jack shrugged. "You can call me whatever you like." It wasn't as if he'd be seeing her anytime soon, or on a regular basis. Hell, the last time they'd met had been at the Millennium Ball when Glenna was pregnant! And the last time he'd seen her husband had been when the Malfoys were helping Snape get visitation of Jacinta.

Glenna stood up as Jack fetched the little girl who laughed as she scurried out of his reach. "Well, goodbye, Narcissa. Take care of yourself and your son."

"I'll do that. You take care, too. You're welcome to visit me if you like." Her eyes widened. What had prompted her to say that?

"Thanks," Glenna replied noncommittally. "Say bye-bye, Jacinta."

Jack nodded curtly; cuddled in his arms, Jacinta waved at Narcissa as they walked away. Why had she invited Glenna over to the mansion? Not that she thought for a minute the woman would take her up on the offer… Her sense of propriety, she supposed. She was mulling it over when _yet another_ voice, a very familiar one rang out.

"Hello, Cissy." Sirius' eyes drifted around the area as he strode over from the shadows, glancing down into the pram. "I happened to be passing by and saw you looking lonely. Did your prat husband abandon you?"

Narcissa glared at him. How dare he come speak to her in public in broad daylight as if they were old friends? He was a family outcast, why couldn't he get that through his head? Being seen with him would cause talk, it was outrageous! "What do you want, Sirius?"

"Oh, you remember my name," he said sarcastically, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.

"Lucius would be livid to find you talking to me."

"Do you always obey Lucius like a dutiful puppy—sorry, I meant 'wife'?" He made a scornful face. In a cutting tone he added, "I didn't think Malfoy was man enough to spawn a kid. It is _his_, right?"

If it hadn't required the effort to get up, Narcissa would have slapped him. He wasn't worth the trouble. "Go away and leave me and my son in peace."

"Geez, I only wanted a look. He _is_ family," Sirius retorted.

"He's no family to a blood traitor!" she snapped back, easing her wand from her sleeve into her hand. It made her feel more secure.

"We're back on that blood traitor thing, are we?"

"We never left it."

Ignoring her remarks, he returned to gazing down at the solemn baby. If he didn't hate Lucius so much, he might admit the boy was cute, but the resemblance was too striking. Nothing from Malfoy could be good. "I read in the paper you named him Draco Regulus. I'm sure Reg would be proud."

"I did it to honor him. He was so young…" Great, not only was Sirius standing there bold as you please for anyone to see, now he was making her sad about Reg all over again.

"I'm glad you did. He was an idiot, maybe Draco will be better."

Narcissa's eyes flashed and her wand shot out only inches from his head. "Don't you talk about Regulus that way! He was your brother, you filth! He was loyal to our family!"

"He was fool enough to enlist as a Death Eater, Cissy, and he died because of it!"

"Leave or I swear I'll hex you," Narcissa growled softly, rising from her chair.

Having been the recipient of her spells in the past, Sirius opted to go. He could do without being turned into an animal or any number of other things she might think up. Casting her a scowl, he stepped back and Disapparated. She slumped back into her chair, her mood and her appetite ruined. When Lucius finally did appear ten minutes later, all she wanted to do was go home.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Diro, where have you been? I expected you here this morning when I got back," Mateo commented, feeling a little surly now that he wasn't worried anymore. Tonia held him tight to keep him from rising off the couch. They didn't need any more theatrics or arguments.

"I went to check on a couple of towns in the outer reaches of our territory," explained Yadiro casually. "By the time I found the _sangristas_ I was looking for, it was too late to make it back. I had to spend the day there."

It would do no good to grumble, Mateo realized. Being limited to nighttime activity outside was a fact of vampire life, Yadiro hadn't had any alternative. Anxious to get on with the conversation he'd been anticipating, Mateo blurted, "What were you talking about when you said Lord Voldemort had a new ally?"

Buitrago chuckled as he seated himself in a cushy chair opposite the couple. Sometimes Mateo reminded him of an eager teenager. "As I told you, he's in league with a new ally—a group of allies, to be more precise. Werewolves."

Tonia and Mateo both gaped at him, incredulous. Who in their right mind would befriend a pack of those loathsome, stinky, foul creatures?

"My sentiments exactly," said Yadiro as if reading their minds. "I asked him as much, he said they serve to stir up fear among the humans. Although he did mention they've acquired a potion of some sort allowing the beasts to retain their senses while in werewolf form. I doubt they use it on a regular basis unless Lord Voldemort is sending them on a terror mission."

"How awful," murmured Tonia. "If they don't go crazy with the full moon, then anything evil they do is _on purpose_. This Lord Voldemort must be as evil as they are."

"More so, I fear. Mateo was very right in advising me to be wary of him. From what I understand, a pack of the creatures murdered Lucius Malfoy's father-in-law not so long ago."

"Lucius did tell me about that," said Mateo. "He and a few others went out for revenge, killed four of them."

"Yes, well, what I think he'd find interesting is that Greyback, who is the leader of the werewolves and Voldemort's ally, led the charge that murdered the man," said Yadiro.

Mateo hesitated, letting it sink in. Narcissa's father had been killed by Greyback and his cronies, and now these same werewolves worked for Voldemort! Did Lucius know the full story? Probably not, surely he would have said so when telling Mateo about it. He could well imagine Lucius pitching a fit at finding out the one responsible for this atrocious murder was now a trusted member of their master's inner circle!

Yadiro went on when it became apparent Mateo wasn't going to respond. "If you tell Lucius, he might reconsider working for this madman."

Shaking his head, Mateo muttered, "He can't quit. I asked him why he aligns himself with that bunch and he showed me a black mark—a skull and a snake—on his arm. This brand magically binds him to Lord Voldemort. If he leaves, they can find him. His only choices are serve or die, and with a wife and new son to think about, he chooses to serve."

Tonia patted Mateo's thigh lightly. "It's better he doesn't know about this Greyback." The other vampires looked at her questioningly. "There's nothing he can do about it. He can't leave, and if he takes revenge, won't Lord Voldemort punish him, maybe even kill him?"

"Perhaps you're right," Yadiro agreed. "But he needs to know for his own protection that these werewolves are roaming his property as we speak. Whether his master has given the beasts permission to use his land, I can't say, but I doubt Malfoy knows. When we were looking for you, Mateo, we flew over Malfoy Manor and I saw at least two, there could be more. They looked as wild and mindless as any werewolf I've ever seen."

At that, Mateo leaped to his feet, furiously berating himself. How could he not have noticed them in the time he spent at the mansion? Was he losing his touch, or was he too engrossed in having family that he just hadn't paid attention to the signs? Lucius didn't know, he was certain. If he did, he'd take steps to eliminate them or somehow make sure his family was safe. The full moon had passed recently, the family was safe until the next one. "I'm going back."

"_We're_ going back," Tonia corrected him with a hint of a smile. "I won't let you face them by yourself."

"Would you like me to send reinforcements?" asked Yadiro.

"No," replied Mateo, waving off the notion that he needed help. Then again…. "On second thought, yes. It's a huge property, there could be dozens of the horrid creatures."


	64. Chapter 64

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Four

(A/N: Thanks to Monica for planting the nanny idea. Also, for anyone who wondered why Jack was curt with Narcissa in the last chapter, it's because he holds a grudge against the Malfoys (of which she is one now) for helping Severus get visitation of Jacinta. In the back of his mind, he fears Snape will try to take Jacinta away in the future, so rather than kiss up to the Malfoys, which would injure his pride, he avoids them.)

"It wasn't my fault." A denial wafting in from afar.

"Yes, it was. You got in at midnight and woke him up." The voices were approaching the dining room.

"A pin dropping on a pillow would wake him up!" Lucius retorted in a snotty tone, just as he and Narcissa entered the dining room where Abraxas sat reading the _Daily Prophet_.

Hiding a smile behind the paper, Abraxas said calmly, "Good morning. Trouble in paradise?"

"Good morning," they answered in unison.

"She's blaming me for waking Draco last night," Lucius lamented, shooting her a haughty glower. "She won't let me use silencing spells, either, so we had to listen to him cry for hours, _as usual_."

"Don't you pick on him," Narcissa snapped, jerking her chair out and flopping heavily into it. Dark circles under both of the couple's eyes attested to their sleepless night. "It's cruel to let a child cry without comforting him. Next time you 'work late', go sleep in a guest room so you don't disturb him."

"Why should I? It's _my_ room and _my_ bed!" Lucius stated, flinging himself into his own chair.

Abraxas lowered the paper to take a swallow of coffee. "You keep Draco in bed with you?"

"It's the only way to shut him up," Lucius answered defensively, his eyebrows dipped into a weary frown. "I can't hold him all night, every night."

Narcissa gasped and rolled her eyes. "Don't play the martyr! I sit up with him just as often as you do."

"Children, behave," the patriarch smirked, to which both glared sullenly over at him. "I have no objections to parents sleeping in the same bed with their infants, I've done it myself. Yes, Lucius, you cried incessantly, too."

His son flushed and averted his face, his lips pinched together.

"I've checked Draco repeatedly, there's nothing wrong with him, I don't know why he's so fussy. Nonetheless, there comes a point when your sanity becomes threatened, and it looks like you two are fast approaching that point." Neither of the pair objected, they merely waited to hear what he had to say. "Have you considered a nanny?"

"Yes," said Lucius.

"No!" said Narcissa at the same time.

"Why not, Narcissa?" inquired her father-in-law.

"I don't want another woman raising my son," she admitted, glancing from one man to the other. "I went through misery to have Draco, I want him to love _me_, not some paid employee who'd influence him in God only knows what fashion."

"I'm sure you could find a suitable woman and lay down the rules."

"That's what I said," Lucius chimed in.

Narcissa literally bared her teeth at her husband and he drew back in surprise, closing his mouth. "What if she tried to steal my baby? She could sneak him out in the night when—" Her voice rose with emotion, catching in her throat; it seemed she might burst into tears.

Reaching over to take her hand, Abraxas patted it soothingly. In his calm drawl he assured her, "No one is going to steal your baby, Narcissa. Lucius would never allow it, nor would I. There are spells, wards we can put up to prevent Draco from leaving the house without one of us. Lucius, didn't you tell me your—_dark lord_—taught you some Legilimency?"

"Yes, sir. Why?"

He addressed the woman while answering the question. "Would it make you feel better if Lucius scanned prospective nannies for you? He'd be able to see if they have ulterior motives."

"Or we could use Veritaserum," Lucius piped up helpfully. "Or Legilimency _with_ Veritaserum."

Feeling put upon from both sides, Narcissa stared down at her plate, unseeing. What was wrong with men? Didn't they have any emotion at all for their offspring? Lucius would be perfectly happy to hand over the rearing of their son to a complete stranger! Hell, he seemed downright anxious to be rid of the child he'd created! At least Abraxas was only trying to help, not unload his responsibility in order to make his own life easier. She was so worn out, it was hard to think clearly in this state.

At length she picked up her napkin and laid it across her lap, not looking up. "What's wrong with me wanting to raise Draco myself as a loving mother? It was always my understanding that pureblood families raised their own children."

"With house elves to assist and watch the brats," Lucius shot back, stung by the way she wielded the pureblood card as a weapon against him. "But you won't even allow that."

"Lucius," his father warned in a hiss, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

"So now Draco's a brat?" Narcissa exclaimed. She shoved her chair back, rose stiffly, and threw her napkin at her plate. It landed beside her tea, one end flipped up inside the cup, eagerly sopping up the amber-brown liquid. Between clenched teeth she muttered, "I'd better go see if _my brat_ is still asleep." She stormed out without looking back, her shoes clacking loudly in the silence.

A second later a rolled up newspaper whacked Lucius smartly upside the head. Startled, he rubbed the stinging red spot as his eyes projected daggers at his father. "Exactly what was that for?"

"You're an idiot," Abraxas answered, dropping the paper on the table in front of him. "You're trying to convince your wife to hire a nanny, so of course it's only logical to insult the boy she adores—and that I adore."

"I didn't mean _Draco_, it was a generalization," Lucius huffed. "Why am I being made the bad guy?"

Abraxas folded his hands in front of him as much to keep from smacking his son again as to convey his benign intentions. "Son, Narcissa has just had a baby, her hormones are running high. She's very protective of Draco. She believes you trivialize her feelings, making her withdraw from you and cling to the baby even more. From what I've seen, I tend to agree with her."

"Naturally you do, you've always sided with everyone against me," Lucius grumbled.

A hard fist slammed onto the table, rattling the glassware and getting Lucius' undivided attention. "Get up there and talk to her!" Abraxas roared, his fragile Mister-Nice-Guy attitude fallen by the wayside. Legally adult or not, the boy had a way of irritating the shit out of him! "Apologize, compromise, grovel, I don't care—just work it out! I won't permit my grandson to grow up in a tense household where his parents fight all the time."

If Lucius weren't leery of actually finding out, he'd have snidely asked what his father intended to do about it; if the past was any indication, he had a good idea. Tradition in pureblood society dictated that his father would remain head of the family and household until his death, which in a pureblood family gave him rule as he saw fit. He had the right to demand obedience of his son at any age, and to dole out punishment if he so chose. Taking into consideration the power he possessed, he'd been surprisingly lenient since his son grew up. Lucius had grown accustomed in the past years to not being beaten; he rather liked and preferred it that way.

He stood up looking very dignified, nonchalantly smoothing his robes in a deliberate display to show he wasn't going to jump to do as ordered. "I'd hardly call one argument 'fighting all the time', Father. However, as she is my wife, I suppose I ought to placate her."

With unparalleled poise, he bowed slightly to the older wizard, clicking his heels together in such a way it could be interpreted as either respectful or insolent, then lifted up and swaggered from the room. As expected, he found Narcissa in their bedroom rocking Draco in her arms. What he hadn't anticipated was the sight of his distraught wife leaning over the howling infant, sobbing piteously.

In an instant his heart melted and he rushed to her side, plucking Draco from her to hoist upon his shoulder, bobbing the baby gently on his arm as he sat down next to Narcissa to pull her into an embrace with his free arm. She turned to him to bury her face on his other shoulder, the two he loved most in the world crying their eyes out against him.

"Honey, don't cry, it's okay," he murmured into her hair.

"I'm so tired, Lucius," she sobbed, pressing herself harder against him. "But he's our baby…"

Lucius continued to bounce Draco up and down, encouraged by the lessening of his wailing. They couldn't go on like this, not if either one of them was to be a fit parent for their son. "Narcissa, let's try a nanny for a while—just to see how it goes, please. I'm worried about you, and me, and _us_."

"Just for a while?" she repeated into his robes.

"Yes. Say for a month, nights only, so we can sleep. You'll be with Draco during the day so he'll love you, and the nanny can care for him at night. Would that be alright?"

Narcissa nodded, a feeling of fear mingling with hope running through her mind. This proposition didn't seem so bad, not if the intruder would be here only at night. "You have to put up the extra wards."

"I'll do it today." He kissed the top of her head, then turned to kiss Draco's fuzzy blond pate. The little boy had fallen into an exhausted slumber on his chest. God, how he loved these two!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Clutch. Shift into first gear. Ease up on the clutch while giving it gas._ How difficult could it be? The directions were explicit, concise. And virtually impossible, Severus grumbled to himself as the car lurched forward and stalled for the fifth time in a row. If they'd been on the road instead of in a deserted car park, he shuddered to think of the accident potential.

"Mum, this is stupid! The car is broken," he asserted, slapping the steering wheel.

Eileen, sitting beside him in the passenger's seat, smiled faintly. "You should've learned when your father wanted to teach you, but you were too stubborn."

_He probably would've killed me for being too dense to learn_, Severus griped inwardly with a sulking frown. "What do I need it for anyway? I can Apparate anywhere I want to go."

"When it's time for the twins to go to Hogwarts, can you Apparate with both of them and their luggage?" his mother challenged.

Severus paused, glancing over at her. There existed no doubt she knew as well as he did that such a trick was extremely difficult and dangerous. "I can Apparate them one at a time—"

"You are _not_ leaving one of my children at the train station alone, mister!" Eileen scolded. "Nor both of them for that matter!"

"Well, I could take their luggage first, then come back and get the kids," he drawled triumphantly, smirking over at her.

Eileen's eyebrows raised and she smirked back at him. "And how long do you think it will be before all their belongings are stolen while you return to fetch them?"

"You'll be there to watch them, mum!" Severus exclaimed. "Why are you making such a big deal of this?"

She laid a hand on his arm, unable to look him in the eye for fear of what she might see. She mustn't break down. "If I'm feeling well enough, I'll go with you this year. What about next year, Severus? I may not be here."

The words struck her son hard in the chest. It was a subject they danced around on occasion; most of the time it was the pink elephant in the corner, the one everyone pretended not to see, as if by ignoring the elephant it would go away. "Mum, don't say that," he whispered in a pained voice.

"You know it's true, Severus. I have to do what I can while I'm here, and that means teaching you to drive." She pulled the stick out of gear into neutral.

"You're supposed to clutch for that," he said morosely.

Pleased that he'd remembered _that_, at least, she smiled. "I know. Come on, start the car, try again. You're popping the clutch, you need to ease off more slowly…"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

No, it couldn't be. Severus took a couple of steps away from his bubbling cauldron in order to hear more clearly. Philana was definitely talking to a man, and that man sounded suspiciously like Dumbledore. He peeked around the corner and jerked back, his heart racing. _Damn it_! There was nowhere to hide, he'd established that quite firmly some time ago. What did the Headmaster want? He suppressed the urge to take another glimpse as he braced against the wall in agitation.

_Calm yourself, Snape_, he commanded, and a perfectly blank expression settled over his features. Dumbledore and Philana were friends, he'd been here visiting in the past. Likely that's all it was, a genial visit. His heart started to slow into its normal rhythm. Going back to his cauldron, he diced a frog liver and chucked it unceremoniously into the liquid, too preoccupied to much care if the potion turned out. It let out a puff of violet steam as if to say it was fine.

He was in the middle of dissecting the frog's pancreas when a shrill "Severus!" echoed into the back room; the knife jerked violently, involuntarily slicing so close to his thumb he nearly lost the tip. Philana came flouncing in, peering with distaste at the minced mass in front of him, oblivious to the death glare he sent her way.

"Did I frighten you?" she asked innocently. "You don't ordinarily swear like that."

"You _startled_ me," he corrected her through clenched jaw. With one wave of his wand the destroyed pancreas disappeared. "Do you need something?"  
"Albus would like to speak with you. Shall I send him back or do you want to come up front?" Notably she hadn't presented the option of not facing the old wizard at all.

"Send him back." Snape's heart had apparently decided that increasing its rate wouldn't suffice; it had leaped into his throat and lodged there.

The purple-robe clad wizard strolled into the room, eyeing Snape with those twinkling blue orbs that managed to hide any emotion behind them. "Severus, how are you?" So far, so good, he was being pleasant.

"Fine, sir," he mumbled, shuffling from one foot to the other like a naughty schoolboy caught in a prank. "And you?"

"Superb, thank you. It's come to my attention that your siblings will be joining us at Hogwarts this year."

That's why he was here? Severus relaxed visibly, his body untensing, though his expression remained impassive. "Yes, sir, they can't wait."

"I thought I'd ask if you need anything," said Dumbledore, scrutinizing Severus, reminding the young man with a rush of shame of the charity case he'd been in school, of his secondhand robes and used books.

"No, thank you," Severus replied stiffly, feeling a tinge of blood in his cheeks. Not only did he have to be reminded of his own poverty status, he had to admit the children had accepted what practically amounted to charity from the Malfoys. Yes, the bounty had been gifted out of gratitude for his work in bringing about Draco, yet in the back of his mind he found it difficult to separate it from pity donations. "They have everything they need, Headmaster."

"I'm glad to hear it, Severus."

Snape glanced over at the cauldron boiling away with clouds of silver steam puffing around to indicate it had overcooked. The potion was ruined. With an irritated grimace, he pulled it from the flame and set it on the table with a thump. It hissed, then let loose a strange sigh. "Is that all, sir?"

"Well, no it isn't." The look he gave made Severus quake inside. "A couple of weeks ago I was conducting an interview at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Busted! That damnable barkeep had squawked to Dumbledore after all! There'd be no point in lying, he'd literally been caught in the act at the tavern. Severus shrugged lightly, ducking his head, his hair falling forward to cover his face. "Yes, sir. I'd gone to apply for the job of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore, pressing his lips together. "How does this explain that the bartender saw you listening at the door?"

Snape shrugged again, swallowing in a desperate attempt to remove the obstructing organ beating in his throat. "I like Philana and working here, but that post would pay a lot more. I was hoping to listen in on what the lady said to give me an idea of what you wanted to hear. Maybe it was sneaky…"

"Maybe?" Dumbledore inquired, raising a white eyebrow as he popped a piece of candy in his mouth. He recognized the ring of veracity in the young man's tone, yet it didn't seem right somehow. "Would you like a taffy?"

"No, thank you. I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have done it, but that bartender dragged me off and threw me out before I heard much anyway. And then I didn't even get to interview for the job." In an almost Gryffindor show of bravado, he considered boldly asking for that interview now, if the position hadn't been filled. His Slytherin self-preservation instincts kicked aside the bravado and crushed it underfoot. The most he could manage was, "Did that woman get the job?"

"No, Severus." The Headmaster leaned forward ever so slightly, locking gazes with the young man. "Did you hear anything…unusual that night?"

_He means the prophecy_, Snape's mind screamed, snapping all his Occlumency barriers into place. "Like what?"

Dumbledore stared into his eyes for a moment longer, unable to get past the walls, recalling Severus' innate ability to guard his mind. "If you'd heard anything odd, I'm sure you'd know what I mean."

"I imagine so," said Snape noncommittally. He indicated with a wave of his hand the cauldron on the worktable between them. "I ought to get to work. Unless you have something else to discuss?"

Dumbledore continued studying him over his spectacles as he pored over the conversation in his mind. The first point that struck him was that Severus had been honest in what he'd said; the second point was that Severus hadn't been forthright inasmuch as he was holding back something. If he'd heard the prophecy, or even only part of it, what could he stand to gain from not acknowledging it? Why would he feign ignorance? Did he fear retribution from Dumbledore himself? That seemed patently ludicrous, but with his past it wasn't out of the question.

"Alright, Severus. I'm certain if you remember anything you'd like to tell me, you know where to find me." He gave a nod of his head as he turned to leave.

"Goodbye, Headmaster." Not until the old man had left the shop did Severus' pounding heart begin to calm; he unclenched his fist in which he held a strand of boomslang, now covered in blood from his palm, where his nails had dug painfully deep into the flesh.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, flinging the boomslang into the trash. He drew his wand across the wounds, sealing them. Why the hell was it he could withstand the darkest wizard on the planet without losing his composure, endure his torture without breaking, yet a visit from Dumbledore, of all people, unsettled him so?

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The night of the full moon had arrived, and Mateo was ready. Along with Tonia and four other _sangristas_, he'd navigated to a spot not too distant from Malfoy Manor the previous night, then spent the day sleeping in an abandoned drain tunnel. Now the six flew silently around the perimeter of the estate, defining the boundaries, their sharp eyes detecting the smallest movement.

Mateo pointed north as they circled in an arc. "Adan, Iselda, you investigate that corner; Salvador and Esteban, go east. Tonia and I will go west. Meet back at the manor in an hour. If you need assistance, call and everyone will converge on that location." Due to the piercing, heinously loud nature of their call, he hoped it wouldn't be necessary, they were trying to be clandestine.

The vampires nodded and flew to their respective destinations. Mateo took Tonia's hand as they soared toward the west boundary. "How long has it been since you fought a werewolf?" he grinned.

"Many years," she said softly. In her old cult, she had been recognized as a werewolf eliminator extraordinaire who over time had killed a slew and driven quite a few of the creatures out of their area and _into_ Yadiro's territory. Once she joined Yadiro's cult, the werewolves aware of her repute had fled once more. She sometimes wondered if her reputation had been the reason Yadiro let her join his cult at all. Rationally she knew it wasn't so, yet on occasion the thought haunted her.

They dipped down together, flying low over a patch of trees when Tonia squeezed his hand and halted in mid-air. The fact that their hands were linked caused Mateo to skid to a stop as well, wrenching his arm. She looked over at him, then motioned down. At first he saw nothing but the leaves of the trees flapping in a light breeze. With a quizzical look he shrugged back at her.

Spiraling slowly down, they landed in a sort of clearing amid a patch of trees. In one section of the clearing, the grass had been trampled down, which might appear unremarkable unless one considered that this far from the manor, no human had trod in a very long time.

"It could be an animal's bed," Mateo said, unconvinced.

"There are shoe prints," she countered, though Mateo couldn't distinguish them if they did indeed exist. She stalked closer to the trees, peering intently first at eye level, then at the floor of the tiny wood. She darted into the tree-covered splotch, bent down, and triumphantly lifted up a torn section of cloth. As she neared Mateo, he saw it for what it was: a rent garment, trousers to be exact, shredded at the seams.

"At least one of them is here," Tonia asserted, tossing the pants on the ground at Mateo's feet. "These are fresh, they aren't wet or dirty, they can't have been here a month or more. Yadiro said he saw two werewolves, but my guess by the size of that trampled patch is we're looking at four or five."

"You mean they live here?"

"No, there's no indication of human food or waste. They must congregate here when it's nearing time to change." A minuscule furrow appeared between her eyebrows. "Usually only werewolves who are anti-society run in packs. The ones who despise what they are stay to themselves. I can't help but wonder if they've planned something."

Mateo smiled, though his eyes glinted with wrath. The filthy beasts better not have planned anything against his relatives! "If they have, we're here to stop them."

"Listen!" Tonia spun around in a full circle, her eyes roaming carefully.

Mateo was about to say he hadn't heard anything when the muffled sound of a growl drifted out of the wood behind him. Another eerie sound came from the opposite direction. As fast as he wheeled around, the beast still had the drop on him. It leaped through the air aiming for his neck with its enormous teeth bared. Werewolves were incredibly fast; vampires were a shade faster. He scarcely knocked it aside with a blow that would have crushed a man's chest in, and it landed on the grass, only to bound right back up.

From the corner of his eye he spied another werewolf racing at his girlfriend with amazing speed. "Tonia!" he yelped, as much to warn her—as if she needed it—as to assure himself she was alright by hearing her voice.

"Blind him!" she shouted back to Mateo as she followed her own advice with the second creature. Lightning reflexes hadn't abandoned her for disuse. Standing her ground, she bunched the fingers of one hand into a sort of spear; as the werewolf overtook her, she ducked aside and stabbed right into the beast's eye as it charged. It reared back screaming.

Mateo's foe circled him on all fours, panting and drooling. Suddenly it lunged again, startling him with quickness to rival his own. An attempt to gouge its eye put his arm dangerously close to its snout, resulting in a searing pain from the animal's teeth sunk deep into his forearm. Undeterred, Mateo slammed it between the eyes with a punch that addled its brains. It let go, staggering.

Tonia wasted no time. One fist snatched her werewolf's snout, holding it closed, while her fangs ripped across its vulnerable throat, severing both carotid arteries in a single move. Blood spurted out onto the _sangrista_ and the grass, though she seemed not to notice. Not content with letting it bleed to death, lest the wounds begin to heal beforehand (and she wasn't entirely sure it _could_ die that way), she slashed across the throat again as she yanked back viciously on the snout, laying the gash open to the vertebrae. With a mighty pull and twist, she stood upright, panting, letting the animal's body fall to the ground. In her hands she held the werewolf's head.

She turned quickly to Mateo, who looked up at her with a gleam in his eye. He was bent over his werewolf, one of its half-severed arms splayed on the ground beside him. "Don't play with it, kill it," she chided.

"I'm trying," he retorted. He hadn't exactly had the amount of practice she had. None, in fact. By virtue of the fact that vampires were strong enough to literally rip a werewolf to pieces, he'd never worried about encountering one, unlike his uneasiness for his human relations, whose magic would be ineffective for the most part, and whose strength came nowhere near close enough to physically kill the creatures.

"Decapitate it," she said by way of being helpful.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the woman he loved standing there holding a werewolf's head, then shrugged to himself. Well, she was the expert. With his fangs he sliced open the throat and wrenched the head off, grimacing at the taste of werewolf blood. He knew it was cursed, he hadn't known it was so repulsive to the palate. Much worse than rodent blood! He spit several times, trying to free himself of the taste.

"You get used to it," Tonia smiled.

Perhaps she should have asked Yadiro for a silver knife for Mateo so he could've simply stabbed the creature in the heart. Ah, well, hindsight was 20/20. Besides, Mateo would probably have ended up carving the werewolf to pieces anyway, he didn't look terribly skilled at this. Personally, she'd always preferred to use what she had on hand, that being her own attributes. It gave her a rush of exhilaration to take down the foul creatures with her bare hands.

"No one has called," Mateo observed, getting up. "We should go to the manor so I can warn Lucius. For all we know, there could be plenty more around."

Tonia nodded, switching from holding on to the snout to clutching the hair of the beast.

"Any particular reason you've become so attached to that thing?" he asked.

"Proof," she answered. "He may not believe unless he sees."

True enough. Together they sailed on up to Malfoy Manor, onto the porch. They were the first to arrive. Sisidy answered their knock, her whole being registering shock at the sight of Mateo, whom she knew, and some strange woman, both covered in blood. She slammed the door to go fetch Lucius.

Even though he'd been warned by Sisidy's melodramatic description of the two bloody people awaiting him, Lucius recoiled slightly upon opening the door. "Damnation, Mateo, are you planning to show up looking like this every time?" he drawled.

"Greetings to you, too, great-nephew," Mateo sneered. "We come bearing gifts." He nudged Tonia.

Lucius' stomach lurched when Tonia held up the severed head for his inspection.


	65. Chapter 65Werewolves of Wiltshire

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Five (Werewolves of Wiltshire)

Lucius gaped stupidly at the werewolf head thrust up in front of his face dripping blood onto his porch. "What in holy hell?" he uttered.

"It's a werewolf," Mateo informed him, as if Lucius hadn't figured that out on his own. "Tonia killed it a few minutes ago, I killed another. They were back in the west quarter." He motioned for Tonia to lower the grotesque head out of their sight.

"On my property?" exclaimed Malfoy, doubly staggered.

"Yes, and we believe there are more. Our friends are searching right now." He absently reached in through the jagged holes of his torn shirt to scratch the gouge marks on his forearm where he'd been bitten. It had begun to itch as it healed, which he found more annoying than the pain.

Lucius' gaze dropped to Mateo's arm and he froze. "It—it bit you?"

Mateo nodded, shrugging. "No big deal."

"But you'll turn into one of them!"

At that Mateo burst out laughing. "That's funny, nephew, very funny! A werewolf can only turn a _human_ into a werewolf. I haven't been human for a very long time. Would it be asking too much for water to wash off this repulsive stench?" He took the werewolf head and pitched it into the yard, then turned back to his relative.

"Forgive my manners," Lucius murmured. A few waves of his wand eliminated both the gore and odor from the couple. Never having been the recipient of a magical spell before, Tonia squealed in delighted excitement, looking down and stroking her riding breeches and high-necked shirt in wonder.

Mateo squeezed Tonia's hand and whispered something in her ear, then to Lucius said, "May I present to you Tonia. Tonia, _este es mi sobrino_, Lucius Malfoy." She held up a delicate hand unadorned with even a single ring; Lucius took it and kissed it lightly. Mateo added, "She doesn't speak English."

Lucius didn't respond, he was busy staring out beyond the confines of the porch into the moonlight where two more vampires, both male, had alighted quietly and began walking toward the others in a fluid movement so smooth it was almost a glide. One had long, flowing hair and wore blue jeans and a T-shirt like Mateo, the other wore his black hair short, his dark suit reminiscent of something seen a hundred years earlier. Both of them were bloodstained. As they got closer, Lucius detected the short-haired one limping ever so slightly, his pantleg in tatters.

They nodded to Lucius, but spoke to Mateo. "_Matamos a tres de los animales, pero se escapo uno_," said Salvador, daubing his T-shirt front over his face to wipe off a trickle of werewolf blood, revealing severe, deep scratches beneath.

"_Que bueno_," Mateo replied. "They killed three, Lucius. One got away."

Five. Five werewolves had been dispensed with so far! How many were there? Was the entire estate overrun with them? Apparently it was, which Lucius found incredibly disconcerting. What if he or a member of the family had decided to walk outside? A shiver ran down his spine.

"_Donde estan Iselda y Adan_?" asked Esteban, glancing around, not even trying to disguise his concern. While he may deny it, everyone knew of his feelings of more than friendship for Iselda. His mauled foot seemed of no significance at all to him.

"_No han llegado_," answered Mateo. He wasn't worried that the others hadn't arrived yet, there'd been no distress call, and the agreed-upon hour was only coming to a close.

"If I may ask, Mateo," drawled Lucius, leaning against the doorframe, wand in hand, arms crossed, "how many of you are here?"

"Six. The other two should be along very soon." He shouted over to Salvador to take the werewolf head and discard it somewhere out of the way. Salvador picked it up and flew off in the direction of the orchard.

_My estate has been taken over by werewolves and vampires_, Lucius thought in disbelief. "Don't misunderstand, I'm grateful for what you've done, but what are those wretched beasts doing on my estate to begin with?" He hadn't meant to sound quite so accusing.

Mateo stepped up to look him right in the eye, his tone bordering on caustic. "I don't know why they're here, but if I were you I'd have a long talk with Lord Voldemort. I suspect he has something to do with it. And in case you're wondering, we didn't bring them here, Yadiro saw them as he was flying over, that's why we came. So—you're welcome!"

A rush of pink tinged Lucius' cheeks. "Again my manners are sorely lacking. I intended no offense, nor to imply that you'd brought the creatures here. Of course I thank you all for slaying these werewolves." What the hell did he want to say? He wasn't even sure anymore, his mind was beset with the horror of the situation. From where he stood he _scourgified_ Esteban, then Salvador as he returned, both of whom seemed as stunned and impressed as Tonia had been. "I don't suppose you have any idea how many more there are?"

"I honestly don't know," said Mateo, a frown creasing his forehead. "One got away that we know of, there could be some we didn't see. Until the others get back, we won't have the barest idea." He let out a disheartened breath as he shook his head. "When we came we didn't anticipate such an infestation. Do you know any charms or wards to put up against werewolves?"

Lucius shrugged, giving a blank look. Did such spells even exist? After the debacle at Black Manor, he and his father had researched every spell even remotely related to werewolves, coming up with nothing useful. He hated to ask the one person who would know, because that one person may very well be the reason these hideous monsters were here to begin with. And if that were the case, what did the dark lord hope to gain by sending werewolves here?

He shook his head bleakly. "No, I don't, but I do know a curse to kill them. Shall we go?" He closed the door behind him as he lifted his wand.

For a moment it seemed Mateo didn't understand what Lucius was proposing, then the corner of his mouth quirked upward. "You want to hunt them? Fight them?"

"No, I don't want to, but they must be disposed of!" Lucius snapped, not appreciating the superior air given off by the other. It reminded him of how his older brother used to treat him when he was a little boy.

"I told you, that's why we're here," Mateo reiterated. "We don't want you going out and risking your life. We'll protect the house until dawn approaches, then we'll need to hide under the gazebo. In the daylight you'll have better luck searching out anybody who got past us, and they won't be capable of ripping your head off." He smiled at his joke, even though he sincerely meant every word of it.

Lucius grimaced. Mateo was right, it would be foolhardy to risk his life when these vampires could do it just as well if not better, and weren't likely to suffer lasting effects. As he'd found out the last time he battled werewolves, the creatures were stronger and faster than humans, infinitely more dangerous than simply waiting for them to revert to human form, at which time he could ferret them out before they escaped once more. Naked and wandless, they shouldn't pose too much of a threat.

Already in his mind he was laying the plans for what he needed to do: summon Rodolphus, who'd bring his brother and—uh! Bella. Bitchiness aside, she was a formidable foe and would enjoy this task immensely. He hoped the dark lord wouldn't be upset at him dragging the remaining werewolf bastards to the castle for him to deal with.

Across the front lawn the two _sangristas_ were chattering away with two more who'd just touched down. The woman dressed in a style remarkably similar to Esteban, her hair only a bit longer than his, but definitely feminine nonetheless. Tonia and Mateo went over to join them as Lucius shot out two more _scourgifies_.

"I feel like a blasted house elf, reduced to cleaning," he grumbled to himself. Still, it was the least he could do for those ridding his land of a terrible bane.

Mateo came over alone, halting at the porch steps, this time looking very solemn. "They only killed one, but they saw three running across the adjoining property. You have a serious problem on your hands, Lucius. It looks like we'll have to take turns guarding the mansion tonight while the rest hunt for more werewolves."

Feeling absolutely nauseated by the extent of the invasion, Lucius nodded numbly. How long had they been here? Had his family been at risk all along and he didn't even know it? It utterly flabbergasted him that so many had the audacity to use his land as a playground while he went blithely about his business, completely unaware.

"Thank you, Mateo, thank your friends for me. I'll get a few Death Eaters over here to round up any you miss come daylight. You've been an enormous help, I don't know how to properly reward you."

"What's family for?" grinned Mateo. He gestured with one hand at the gaggle of vampires. "I can talk to _them_ anytime, and _you_ really ought to go inside till daybreak. If you want to thank me, do you mind if I speak with my father again?"

"He's been asking after you," Lucius replied, hiding a chuckle at the eager, excited glow in Mateo's eyes. He opened the door and said, "_Accio_ Silvanus portrait."

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Dawn found Lucius, Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix canvassing the Malfoy grounds on brooms, flying low, wands at ready. The plan as presented by Lucius was to find and capture any remaining werewolves, now in human form, take them to the dark lord, and let him deal with them. Unbeknownst to Lucius, the others had differing sentiments.

By mid-morning when they gathered back at Malfoy Manor, Lucius discovered that not only had the other Death Eaters murdered three nude men either sleeping in the wood or trying to escape, they'd also doubled back and slain the one that Lucius had immobilized. If any were left alive, they'd distanced themselves from the grounds last night or in a hurry this morning. The total body count to date stood at an even dozen—werewolf and human form—scattered over the estate, necessitating that they spent the rest of the morning burying the foul beings in wand-dug graves, with copious amounts of griping on everyone's part, particularly concerning the condition of the bodies mauled by the vampires.

Now that none remained alive, and he wasn't _entirely sure_ they were the werewolves purportedly allied with the Death Eaters, Lucius was not looking forward to discussing this with Lord Voldemort. In fact, it seemed prudent to forget the whole thing.

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August 8, 1980

Late at night the three Death Eaters entered the castle together, reaching up to take off their masks at once. Not encountering anyone, which Lucius thought strange since Bella spent nearly every minute of her time here, they moved on into the meeting room where the master awaited them on his throne.

As they approached, Yaxley and Rookwood shortened their strides and halted behind Malfoy, and they all fell to their knees. Voldemort examined the men briefly.

"You have finished the task I set you?" he asked, his high voice gaining in pitch with his excitement.

"Yes, my lord," the men chorused.

"And?" His ghastly red eyes fixed on Lucius, who hadn't perceived until now that the others were several paces behind him, deliberately thrusting him into the master's jaws.

He glimpsed around to glower at them, then turned back to the dark lord. "My lord, we have checked, rechecked, and triple checked every name on your list. Only one bore a child in July."

Smiling cruelly, eyes dancing, Voldemort hissed, "Tell me." He looked like he might begin clapping with glee.

"A boy—Devon Smythe, born on July 12, fourteen years old. He lives in Wakefield in West Yorkshire." Lucius hesitated, apprehensive of how Lord Voldemort make take the next bit. "A squib, my lord."

Surprising every man in the place, there was no shriek of fury, only one simple command. "Kill him."

Stunned, Lucius blinked back his shock. "But, my lord, he couldn't possibly pose any danger to you—" His words caught in his throat, his eyes widening as he realized what he was inadvertently implying.

Too late. Voldemort stood up smoothly, his wand resting in the palm of his hand. With each word the volume of his voice rose a touch. "_Danger_ to me, Lucius? You think I fear a child? A _squib_? You doubt my ability to overcome this prophesied 'conqueror'?"

"Never, master! But…if this boy is the one prophesied, will _I_ be able to overcome him?"

"We'll find out, won't we?" smirked the evil wizard. "Do as I say, eliminate the boy."

"As you command, master." Lucius rose to his feet feeling sick to his stomach. He'd never killed anyone, and now he'd been ordered to murder a mere child! Not even a wizard, only a brat as defenseless as a Muggle! How could this be the one from the prophecy? He bowed, whirled, and rushed out with Yaxley and Rookwood on his heels.

Before he'd taken three steps out of the castle, Yaxley yanked on his arm, forcing him to a rough stop. "You're not getting all the credit, Malfoy."

"What?"

"We're going with you," Rookwood explained. "We worked as hard as you did finding the squib, we deserve as much credit for his death."

Not willing to argue when this presented the perfect opportunity to weasel out of murder and let these fools do it, Lucius shrugged and motioned them along. They Apparated at the backside of a row of homes; Lucius pointed for Rookwood to go round front. "Check the address, make sure we're at the right house."

Rookwood ran around and was back in under a minute. "This is the one. Maybe somebody should stand watch out here. This is a really important hit."

Sneering beneath his mask, Lucius remarked, "To draw attention to ourselves?"

"You're still trying to grab the glory, aren't you, Malfoy?" Yaxley spat. "I think _you_ should stand guard."

"Me, too!" agreed Rookwood.

Lucius ignored Rookwood, going instead for his habitual adversary. "Yaxley, you're friends with Dolohov." It wasn't a question.

"What's it to you?" growled the other.

"Did he ever tell you about the long, productive 'chat' we had after he almost killed me with the _causa meschever_?"

There was an uncomfortable silence; Lucius felt sure if he removed the man's mask he'd find his face paler than when they left the castle. Evidently Yaxley _had_ heard about Dolohov's merciless torture at Lucius' hands with repeated applications of the Cruciatus, and he was bright enough to grasp this as a threat against himself.

Nevertheless, still defiant, Yaxley snapped, "I'm not afraid of you."

"You don't have to be afraid in order to die," returned Lucius calmly. The wand between his fingers twirled menacingly.

Another awkward pause, then Yaxley muttered, "Fine, come in with us."

Lucius waved a dismissive hand at both of them. In a bored tone he drawled, "Perhaps I _will_ wait outside. I wouldn't want one of my _dear_ comrades to hex me in the back 'by accident'."

The other two wasted no time in eagerly scrambling up to the back door. Rookwood charmed the lock and they were inside; one of them whispered quite loudly concerning the stupidity of not keeping wards on one's home, and they both laughed. Flashes of green light illuminated the house at random intervals, and a few minutes later they scampered into the back garden to meet up with Lucius once again, both of them nearly hopping with jubilation.

"We did the whole lot of them," Yaxley crowed, his breathing coming fast from exhilaration.

"How do you know you got the boy?" demanded Lucius crossly. Damn it, if they'd slaughtered a whole family for nothing…

"I woke up a kid who looked about fourteen," Rookwood offered. "I asked if he was Devon Smythe, he said yes, so I smoked him." A titter of elation escaped his throat.

"Too bad, I wanted to be the one," Yaxley said.

Grateful for the mask hiding what would undoubtedly be considered misplaced revulsion, Lucius aimed his wand into the sky and said, "_Morsmordre_." The hideous skull and snake comprising the infamous Dark Mark lit up the night with an eerie green glow. Then to the Death Eaters, "The master will want to hear how it went."

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In an elated mood after the news, Voldemort praised his Death Eaters and promised rewards to come before dismissing them. As they were going, he called out, "Lucius, you stay."

Lucius froze in his tracks. What had he done now? Was he to be punished for not being the one to kill the boy? Had the dark lord sensed his disgust at the action? But why hadn't he been punished in front of the others—it _was_ standard practice, after all.

He wheeled slowly and made his way back to stand in front of Lord Voldemort. "Is there something else you require, my lord?"

"What happened to the werewolves on your property, Lucius?"

For the second time in the space of a minute, Lucius' blood ran cold. His mind raced at the speed of light. To lie or not to lie, that was the question. If he lied and the master utilized Legilimency…he'd rather not think about what would happen. If he told the truth…again, not a pretty scenario.

"I'm waiting, Malfoy," warned the dark lord. His mood seemed to have undergone a radical change as well.

"What werewolves might those be, my lord?" asked Lucius, stalling for time.

The _crucio_ that sent him howling to the floor did indeed give him a brief space of time, although it severely limited his ability to think or use subterfuge. No thought except that of eliminating the agony crossed his mind. When the curse was lifted, he panted heavily through the pain, trying to recall the question. Werewolves…

"We could do this at length, Lucius, but in the end you'll tell me the truth," admonished the master, pointing the wand again. "Let me refresh your memory." Another hex slammed his body against the floor so hard his teeth clamped down on his tongue.

The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth. If he could have done so, he would have kicked his own ass for the next line that spouted from his lips. "Why would you think there are werewolves on my estate?"

He thought he heard a disgruntled sigh just before the spell that pulled him from the floor and flung him against a stone wall, upright, unable to move his limbs. "Greyback—our _ally_—told me he'd been using your estate as a meeting ground," Voldemort expounded, enunciating very slowly and clearly as if Lucius were a simpleton.

As he spoke he walked leisurely across the expanse, fiddling with the wand that Lucius couldn't tear his eyes away from. The sound of his heart beating in his ears muffled everything else. Surely Voldemort must hear it!

Voldemort stopped before him, cocking his head as his thin lips twisted into a smile. "He tells me a horde of vampires attacked them, driving him and a few others away. When he went back to find his troops, they were gone but there was blood in various locations. Oh—and a decapitated head in the orchard."

Lucius' face drained off every last bit of color. This was it, he'd been caught. "My lord, I can explain," he croaked.

"By all means do."

"I—I found the bodies, I didn't know what to do with them," he said, forcing his eyes to look up at the dark lord. The best he could do was chest level. Admitting he knew of the attack, condoned it, even…and that one of the attackers was a relative; to say it wouldn't set well was a gigantic understatement. Shielding himself from Legilimency, he'd erected his Occlumency barriers even as he kept his eyes firmly in the middle of the scrawny chest. He feared that if Voldemort was of a mind, he could probably destroy the barriers as he savagely ravaged Lucius' brain until nothing was hidden, break Lucius' pitiful attempts to deceive him.

"I buried them," he went on. "I didn't know they were Greyback's men, I swear!"

"If that were so, why didn't you simply tell me from the beginning?"

"I didn't think it pertinent."

"_I asked you_!" Voldemort thundered, readying his wand again.

Lucius flinched. "I meant before, master! I didn't see the point in bringing up a bunch of dead werewolves. When you did ask, that's when I figured they must be Greyback's, but I didn't kill them, I didn't want to be blamed!" Lucius hung his head, his hair tumbling out of its band into his face. "I didn't want to be punished for something that wasn't my fault."

"Good job," remarked Voldemort sarcastically. "Sometimes you make me wonder if I ought to have the faith in you that I do." He glanced off to the side, to something Lucius couldn't see. "Bellatrix, what is it?"

Bella came sauntering in shooting odd stares at the man fastened to the wall. "It's late, my lord, I expected you in. What's _he_ doing here?"

"Ah, Bellatrix, the mystery is solved. Lucius admits to burying Greyback's werewolves after rogue vampires destroyed them. He took some coaxing." A flick of his wand released the young man, who toppled onto the stone floor.

The expression on Bella's face was unreadable, yet Lucius could guess precisely what was running through that tawdry excuse for a mind. She'd known exactly what happened and had played dumb which, to her credit, was a smart move. If the dark lord knew his Death Eaters had lent a hand in the massacre, he'd not be so kindly disposed toward her—nor toward any of those involved, even Lucius, who hadn't intended the werewolves to be killed. The fire shooting from her eyes very succinctly told him that to keep up the pretense was in everyone's best interest.

"Forgive me, master, I won't hide anything from you again," he promised, knowing it was a blatant lie and praying the dark lord didn't see through it.

Voldemort seemed not to care at this point. He'd gotten his confession, that's all he was after. He despised werewolves; if they were stupid enough to get themselves murdered by a bunch of vampires, they deserved it. If it weren't for the fact that they were his allies, he'd have cheered the vampires on.

"I certainly hope you've learned your lesson, Malfoy. You have an unprecedented knack for drawing down punishment upon yourself."

_No shit_, Lucius concurred silently. First with his father, then with the dark lord. Would he ever learn? "I'm working on that, my lord."

Voldemort had already begun walking away arm in arm with Bella. "I've advised Greyback to move his remaining werewolves to another base in the event the vampires return, so I don't anticipate a repeat performance. You may go." His last words drifted in from the corridor.

On unsteady legs Lucius automatically bowed, though the dark lord didn't see it. Heading for the door, he wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. If he never saw another werewolf, it would be too soon!

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_September 2, 1980_

_Dear Mum and Severus,_

_Hogwarts isn't scary at all like I thought it would be. The people in my House are all so nice—I'm Ravenclaw! Julius is Slytherin. Today we had our first classes, and I think Professor Slughorn is really great. He's the Potions teacher, Severus had him. Professor Slughorn says I'll be good at potions like Severus! (He frowned at Julius and said he needs to pay more attention!)_

Severus paused in his reading. He could almost see his sister smirking over Julius' scolding. _Ravenclaw_? The Princes had been in Slytherin for generations, it was…weird. It didn't bother him, though, not like he'd have expected. Justina was very bright and not especially ambitious or sneaky, Ravenclaw seemed a good fit. Now if she'd been a _Gryffindork_, he'd have raised holy hell! Julius, on the other hand, took after his brother. Except in potion making, apparently. He doubted mum would do it, so he'd need to send a howler before Julius became too mischievous for his own good.

_Julius said to tell you he likes his House, too. He said __not__ to tell you that a sixth year named Crouch—Barney or something Crouch—was picking on him—he was mean to all the firsties. He's a Slytherin, too, so I don't know why. I told Julius that Severus could make him quit, and he said I better not tell you or he'll punch me._

_Barty Crouch, no doubt_, Severus mused. He vaguely remembered the straw haired boy, though now that he dwelt on it he did recall an incident of Crouch tormenting a first year who stuttered. A slow smile spread over Severus' face. He'd thoroughly enjoyed putting the bullying little prick in his place. Only it seemed the prat hadn't given up on harassing those younger and smaller than himself with no one to keep him in check. If it continued, maybe he'd make a special visit to Hogwarts to _reminisce_ with Crouch.

He quickly read the rest of the letter, which basically stated she'd write again soon and sending love. It had only been yesterday he'd taken the twins to the train station, yet it seemed so long already. Setting the letter on the coffee table, he headed to the kitchen to throw together something for dinner. A burning, throbbing pain in his forearm stopped him cold.

As unusual as it was to be called so early in the evening, he didn't hesitate. An _accio_ brought his robes and mask, and he Disapparated outside the back door. At the castle, he hurried inside to the meeting room where Bella so helpfully informed him he was expected.

To be more accurate, she'd been sitting at the table in the main room painting her toenails some god-awful color while munching on what he could swear were Cheetos. She'd sneered, "It's the halfbreed. If it was up to me, I'd hex you into next week, but the master wants to see your pathetic arse in there." She'd pointed with one finger whose hawk-like nail was painted a sparkly black.

Perhaps 'helpful' was a bit of a stretch, but close enough. At least he knew where to go. He found Rookwood and Yaxley loitering about looking irritated and anxious. Lucius stood calmly off to the side wearing a practiced blank expression. Something was up.

"Severus." Voldemort motioned him closer. "I've been troubled. Recite for us again the prophecy you heard."


	66. Chapter 66

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Six

(**Author's note**: I am due to leave for vacation in a couple of days, so it is unlikely I'll be able to post again before I get back. Sorry, but that leaves about two weeks of no story. Feel free to read my other works if you haven't, and as always, I love reviews and will respond when I get the chance.)

**September 2, 1980**

Cautiously eyeing the men idling about to his right, Severus made the long march across the stone floor. The master was troubled—huge-ass problem number one; he wanted to hear the prophecy again—potential problem number two. Lord Voldemort was no fool, he surely had the prophecy memorized, so why had he called Severus here to 'recite' it for them?

_Perhaps he fancies my suave baritone voice_, came unbidden to his mind, and in spite of himself he let out a barked guffaw, which he covered by pitching into a fit of coughing.

Dropping to his knees, he murmured, "Forgive me, my lord." He shuffled forward to kiss Voldemort's robes, then edged backward once more. "May I ask why you wish to hear it again, master?"

"Because I wish it," answered Voldemort in what was a surprisingly non-threatening tone. Snape had anticipated something a bit more…villainous, maniacal even, circumstances considered.

Drawing in a deep breath, he spouted, "'The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'" Only after he'd finished did he subversively muse that he should have utilized mystic, guttural speech for effect. And even as he thought it, he wondered what in bloody hell was wrong with his mind, pondering such a reckless, rash act. Not that he'd have dared _do_ it…

Fortunately for Snape, Voldemort wasn't paying him any attention, he was looking over his head at the three men clustered off to the side. "My Death Eaters, how do you interpret this?"

No one appeared anxious to put forth an opinion, let alone hazard a guess at a prophecy that could shape the future of their lives forever. Rookwood stared at an imaginary stain on the floor, lightly kicking the toe of his shoe against it. Yaxley glanced around the room as if hoping someone would magically materialize to elucidate the answers for him.

At the risk of misspeaking, a risk he was prepared to take if it elevated him above the dimwit level of his comrades, Lucius said smoothly, "It means precisely what you've already told us it means, my lord. There is a child born at the end of July to parents who have defied you; this child—forgive me, I'm only quoting—possesses the power to vanquish you."

"Very good, Lucius," replied Voldemort. "Now explain to me how this interpretation differs from the Smythe squib."

_Smythe squib?_ Severus furrowed his brow. That was a new one. He backed off gradually while Lucius spoke, until he was far enough away to stand up without fear of angering the dark lord.

"The Smythe boy was born July 12, not at the end of July," answered Lucius, feeling a sudden compulsion to defend himself. "But he was the only one _at all_ born in July, my lord, and you yourself ordered us to kill him."

Severus rocked on his heels, stunned. Had he just heard what he thought he did— Lucius had finally crossed the line and committed murder? Then a recent front page of the _Daily Prophet_ flashed through his mind: 'Smythe Family Obliterated by Death Eaters'.

Voldemort gave an indifferent shrug. "I thought it prudent to hedge my bets, as they say. I never seriously took the boy as the fulfillment of the prophecy, and as time goes on I continue to have a growing, unsettled feeling."

"Of course, my lord, with no magic the child couldn't have any power to defeat you," Lucius agreed, gritting his teeth in annoyance. This was exactly what he'd tried to tell Lord Voldemort when he commanded them to dispose of the squib to begin with!

The dark lord lowered his voice to downright ominous. "The prophecy says 'as the seventh month _dies_'. Not _died_. The prophecy was made in early July, the end of the month had yet to come. Your new task is to discover if any magical children were born on July 31 of this year."

It seemed the temperature in the room plummeted. The nauseated feeling Lucius had experienced at being ordered to kill Devon Smythe came rushing back in quadruplicate. Not only had the boy and his family been murdered for nothing, now the dark lord was concentrating on a _baby_, of all insane notions! If a squib of fourteen was helpless, how much more so was a child only a few weeks younger than his own tiny son?

"As you wish, my lord," Lucius uttered, bowing.

Voldemort pointed at Rookwood and Yaxley. "This is your assignment as well. Find the names and any information available about them."

"Yes, my lord," they answered together.

"You may go."

The three of them trooped out as Snape held back, not sure he'd been dismissed. In yet another show of obvious madness, he ventured to ask, "My lord, do you truly believe an infant is capable of vanquishing you?"

His answer came in the form of a high cackle, then Voldemort said with disdain, "Of course not! But the child will grow up to be a thorn in my side. Better to pluck him out and be done with it." He made a shooing gesture with his hand. "Leave me now, I have thinking to do."

_Homicidal reflections take no holidays_, thought Severus as he bowed. When he exited the castle, he noticed Lucius a short distance away, bending over as if he were—and then a stream of vomit came hurtling from his mouth. Snape averted his face. He waited to approach until the man was through retching and had straightened up in embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked.

Lucius nodded as he wiped a sleeve across his mouth. That action alone told Snape he most certainly was _not_ alright, because a Malfoy would never behave in such an uncouth manner without grave reason. Lucius' eyes were glassy from watering; he spit into the grass again.

"Lucius, I have to ask. Did you kill that Smythe family?"

There was a moment's pause. "No. Rookwood and Yaxley did, but I was there." He looked like he wanted to scream with frustration. "It was all for nothing, and now we'll have to kill a baby. A _baby_, Severus!"

"Maybe there won't be any born on July 31," offered his friend.

"There will be, I know there will, I can feel it. If this prophesied child could destroy everything we've worked for all these years, it's probably best to be rid of him, but—he's a _baby_!" he reiterated, his voice raising to an unhealthy volume. "Younger than Draco!"

Severus regarded his friend. What was there to say? If Lucius was ordered to murder an infant, he'd do so or be murdered himself. Yes, it was nasty business, but who's to say this kid wouldn't grow up to be a pain in the ass for them all? Evidently this war would go on until the one capable of conquering the dark lord was himself conquered. It shamed him to think it, but maybe it was better to kill him now, get this war over with.

"I despise myself for my weakness," Lucius uttered.

Severus glanced back at the castle to make sure Lucius' untoward shouting hadn't been heard. "It's not weakness to be repulsed by senseless death. We see it all the time, only this is a whole new level of depravity for you. We serve the greatest dark lord the world has ever seen, it's only to be expected that he'll ask us to do unconscionable things."

"Not you. He only asks you to spy on Dumbledore and make potions," Lucius retorted, jealously in Severus' opinion. "He's always known I don't want to kill, yet if he ordered me to eliminate an adult, I'd do it with no problem."

"_No_ problem?"

"Shut up. The point is, being a Death Eater has forced me to become harder, more callous than I used to be. I can see it. Our lives intersect with torture and death on a regular basis, I've learned to deal with that. But there's a line you just don't cross…"

_There are no lines for Death Eaters_, Severus thought dejectedly. This wasn't the time to make such an observation. He gave an encouraging grin that came off looking sickly. "Maybe Rookwood or Yaxley will be given that mission."

"Maybe." He didn't look in the least convinced. "I feel like shite, I should go home." Without even saying goodbye he Disapparated.

With no reason to hang around in the chilly evening air, Severus followed suit and Apparated back home. As he entered the kitchen, he remembered how very hungry he was.

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Work was over for the day, and none too soon. A weary Severus exited the Potions shop into Diagon Alley and paused. He was forgetting something, but what? Racking his brain, he stood motionless in the middle of the street. Groceries…no. Dark lord's bidding…no. Something for the twins for school…no—wait! Their birthday was coming up in less than a week, he'd forgotten to get them a gift. Poor as they'd always been, they were his little brother and sister that he loved; he'd always tried to get them _something_ for their birthday.

A second later he was spinning in a circle right before falling to the cobblestones, his robes splayed around him, his knees skinned on the hard stones. Sirius Black stood a few meters off smirking in that infuriating, cocky way that made Severus want to _avada kedavra_ him to hell and back.

"Geez, Snivellus, can't you stay out of the way? This is a busy street."

Shoving down his ire, Severus got to his feet, very conscious of the wand Black toyed with between his fingers. For a brief moment he felt transported back in time to Hogwarts, felt the helplessness of being attacked en masse. A cursory glance revealed none of Black's cronies.

"Don't ever touch me again," warned Snape in a menacing low tone.

"Like I'd touch you on purpose?" Sirius crowed, feigning shock. "That grease from your hair might be contagious!"

"Grow up, you son of a bitch!"

Sirius seemed mildly amused. "Well, I can hardly argue with that. My mother does leave something to be desired."

_Screw this!_ Severus overtly reached into his pocket and produced his wand, pointing it at Black in the same instant Black realized he meant business and aimed his. Hexes shot out from each man; they both deflected the incoming spells, but Severus shot two more in quick succession. The first Sirius turned aside, the other caught him right on the jaw like a punch. His head snapped to the side and he went down heavily.

For a brief space Severus debated cursing him again on general principles, but opted to forego it. People were beginning to congregate around the unconscious figure. Just as he started to walk away, he came face to face with none other than Sirius' wild-haired sidekick, James Potter, running to see what the to-do was about.

"Well, well, Black's lapdog," he commented dryly. "I should have expected you."

"What did you do to him?" demanded Potter.

"Nothing he didn't deserve." Severus made to move around him but Potter caught his arm.

"You're always starting trouble, aren't you? You—"

"For your information," Snape clipped in a bare hiss, roughly shaking Potter's hand off, "Black assaulted me, then tried to hex me. I am within my rights to defend myself."

James opened his mouth, then closed it. He wouldn't put it past Sirius to do exactly as Snape described; they'd both done plenty of it in their time, only James had outgrown the need to denigrate and bully Snape. Apparently Sirius hadn't. In fact, he mused, if he hadn't been meeting Sirius in Diagon Alley, the idiot might well have got himself hurt badly as he sought retribution.

"You'd better not have hurt him," James grumbled, weaving past Snape to attend to his friend, who seemed to be coming around and trying to sit up.

"You instill terror in my heart," Severus sneered, putting away his wand as he strolled off down the street. There were too many people gathered around for the jerks to fire upon him at will. How he longed for the day when someone would give those two talentless, arrogant ponces what they truly deserved. And when they did, he'd relish the opportunity to dance on their graves.

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**September 25, 1980**

"My lord, are you troubled? You've been out here a long time." Bellatrix sidled up alongside Voldemort where he sat on a crumbling wall outside the castle, most unusual for him.

The night was breezy and crisp, with the smell of ocean hanging in the air; distant sounds of crashing waves could be heard. Not things the dark lord ordinarily cared for, and did his utmost to avoid. Tonight they didn't enter his mind at all, he had too much to ruminate about. His Death Eaters had completed their assignment, they'd brought him names.

"The report is in, Bellatrix," he said, turning to her with a twisted smile. "There are two boys who fit the profile, born on July 31."

"Two?" she echoed, unable to hide her surprise. The wizarding population of Britain being as small as it was, to have two non-twin wizard births on the same day of the same year was highly atypical.

"Yes, and here's the interesting part: both sets of parents have defied me thrice!" He began to howl with laughter, to which Bella couldn't decide what she should do, so she merely sat down next to him and inched up close.

"Is that a good thing, master?"

Voldemort's laughter subsided enough to explain, "At first when I heard the news, I was perplexed. Neville Longbottom's parents are pureblood aurors who actively work against us. He seems the logical choice."

"Do you want me to assassinate him?" she asked, brightening. "Or all of them?"

Still grinning in his eerily creepy fashion, Voldemort petted her hand. "Not so fast, Bellatrix. The other boy's parents have come up against my Death Eaters more than once. Does the name Potter ring a bell?"

Bella's eyebrows dipped as her eyes flashed with utter loathing. Her lip curled into a snarl. "Potter? As in _James_ Potter, Order of the Phoenix bastard?"

"Precisely."

"Filthy blood traitor mudblood lover! I'd murder him without a reason, but this is too much, my lord!" she fumed, huffing angrily. "Let me kill him and his halfblood spawn, let me kill all of them!"

"You do me proud, Bella," Voldemort sighed. He hadn't been in such a good mood since…well, ever. The one with the potential to defeat him was now within his grasp, all he had to do was crush him underfoot and the world would bow to him. How long he'd waited for this!

"So what are your plans, my lord?"

"Patience, Bellatrix. My Death Eaters in the Ministry traced the ancestry of each boy, going above and beyond their orders in researching these children. I've been sifting through the information, carefully weighing all considerations."

Bella was so antsy she looked as if she'd wriggle right out of her skirt. "Why don't we just eradicate them both?" she whined.

"Would it not be a pity to spill pure blood if it isn't necessary? The number of purebloods is dwindling as it is," Voldemort countered. Looking like the cat who ate the canary, he added, "Besides, I know which one it is."

Leaning forward literally on his lap, Bella gazed upon him with rapt attention and asked in a hushed whisper, "Who, my lord?"

"Harry Potter."

"How can you be sure?" she pressed, anxious to be on her way wreaking havoc, slaughtering blood traitors, eliminating her master's enemies, and basically being the epitome of a good Death Eater.

"Did you know that I am descended from the Peverell line, Bellatrix?"

"So?" she grumped, pouting. This wasn't turning out to be a fun night at all!

Voldemort stroked her hair as he laid her head down onto his lap. Every so often he'd weave his fingers into the thick mane and give a little tug. "The Peverell line of magic is the strongest; it only makes sense that if anyone had the ability to develop powers to rival mine, he must also be descended from this line." He glanced down at her sulking, yet attentive face. "Harry Potter is descended from this line."

"As if he'll ever be able to match you!" she replied with conviction, rolling her eyes in obvious disbelief. "No one can equal you."

"Nonetheless, better to play it safe. There's been a prophecy, I've identified the brat it concerns, and now all I need to do is be rid of him."

"I'll do it!" she volunteered, leaping up, then falling back long enough to disengage his hands form her hair.

"I think _I_ shall do it, Bellatrix. This upstart will be put in his place before he has the cognizance to know he's a wizard." _And the world will grovel before me when I'm through._

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The end of September found all the Death Eaters gathered at the castle, masked and robed. A strange vibration electrified the place, a sense of foreboding and elation brought on by the dark lord's presence. He waited until every one was present before stepping up to the head of the circle, joy contorting his features in exactly the same macabre way that torturing his followers did.

"My friends, I have excellent news for you—for our cause. Severus brought me a prophecy, as you know." There was a general rumble of assent. "Our Ministry spies have rooted out the names of two boys who fit this description, and I have come to the determination that James Potter's child is the one spoken of."

_Potter_? Severus thought, his stomach doing somersaults. Lily's baby? But he wasn't even born yet, was he? Rapidly his mind scrolled back to his last meeting with Lily, when she'd been quite heavy with child. Oh, God! It could be!

"Your assignment, my friends, is to locate the Potter family, but do no harm to the baby," Voldemort warned. "That delight belongs to me."

Before Severus knew what he was doing, he'd rushed forward to throw himself at his master's feet. "Please, my lord, spare the child's mother! She's done nothing."

Voldemort looked curiously down at him as one would at a circus oddity. "The mudblood? You still have feelings for her, do you?" He gave a harsh laugh, echoed forty times over by the Death Eaters listening. It made Severus' blood run cold. Raising a hand for silence, Voldemort said, "I am a merciful and generous lord. I reward the loyalty of my followers. Because Snape here has been a devoted servant, I will grant this request. None of you are to harm the redheaded wench. When we find her son, she will be spared as long as she stays out of my way and makes no attempt to hinder me."

"Thank you, my lord," Severus choked out, barely able to breath. This was the most he could hope for, yet it was pitifully inadequate.

He rose to go back to his spot, the overwhelming desire to weep enveloping him. _As long as she makes no attempt to hinder him_…of course Lily would try to protect her child! And then Lord Voldemort would murder her, too! His first friend in the whole world was to die because of the prophecy _he'd_ brought to the dark lord. It was all he could do not to burst into tears. But tears would help nothing, they would only garner for him abuse and contempt.

As he stood filled with shock and remorse, he vaguely heard the master speaking like a buzzing in his ear, saying something he didn't comprehend. He barely noticed when the Death Eaters began to Disapparate until he remained alone. How fitting. It was all he'd ever be, all he deserved…to be alone.


	67. Chapter 67

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Seven

A full body massage followed by an exciting tumble in the hay worked wonders on a man's mood; Jansen, Lennar, and Carrow were no exceptions. The three young men had met at Arena's Cathouse for an evening of entertainment and plotting on how to find and capture the Potter brat, winning Lord Voldemort's praise and, hopefully, gratitude. They didn't really hold out too much expectation for gratitude.

As they passed through the foyer on their way out, Lennar simply had to comment. "I'm rather surprised you showed up, Jansen. I thought you favored boys," he remarked with a slight smile bordering on a smirk.

"I like women, too," the other retorted, halting right outside the door to scowl profusely. His comrades halted with him.

"Hmm. Well, I seem to remember a few years back when Malfoy was a teenager. You and Yaxley were pretty keen to stick it to him, as I recall." He relished watching the other man's face redden with anger at being reminded not only of his failure to secure Malfoy's cooperation, but of his experience of being tortured along with Yaxley by Bellatrix after she defeated Yaxley in the series of duels set by the master to determine if Malfoy would indeed be a prize.

"Screw you," Jansen muttered.

"You wish!" Lennar shot back with a guffaw.

"Would you both shut up?" Carrow interrupted. "You're spoilin' my good time."

Lennar's smirk widened. "I thought we had our good time before we made plans to catch the Potter kid."

Carrow scowled but said nothing. They were both smarter than he was, they tended to make him feel inadequate if he tried to contribute too much to the conversation.

Jansen ignored Carrow completely. He thought briefly to inquire if the man's sister might be employed at this illustrious establishment, but considering how squat and unattractive she was, the mere notion of it would probably pass right over Carrow's head. "You think you're hot shit, Lennar, just because you and Dolohov squeaked away from that fight with five wizards—"

"Five _aurors_. Get it right! And I escaped unscathed due to my wits, which you probably wouldn't have done."

"I've killed six Muggles in the past year alone," Jansen boasted. "And a whole wizarding family by myself, and not when they were sleeping like some of you do."

"Parents and a little kid who couldn't fight back—but to be fair, taking on two at once isn't too bad," Lennar admitted. A distinctly unpleasant odor wafting in the air was distracting him. "Do you smell that?"

Lennar and Carrow sniffed at the same time, both wrinkling their noses at the aroma they couldn't put their finger on. They hadn't a chance to comment before out of the darkness two lithe werewolves sprang at them.

One beast let out a terrifying snarl as it landed on Jansen's chest, knocking him backward through the doorway into the foyer of the whorehouse, leaving the door hanging ajar on a broken hinge. The second werewolf made a snatch at Lennar's throat with its enormous teeth, missing as Lennar swung sideways, and clamped down into his shoulder. The man screamed and flailed his uninjured arm.

Carrow whipped out his wand and threw the most potent curse he knew. "_Avada kedavra_!"

It hit the second creature squarely in the back; the beast let go of Lennar and turned around growling. It wasn't dead! Why wasn't it dead? Carrow let loose a horrified shriek and threw another curse, to no effect. At this point, determining his life was worth more than Lennar's, especially since Lennar had been damned the instant he was bitten by a bloody werewolf, he scurried outside the gated fence and Disapparated.

Inside the establishment, prostitutes screamed and dashed away, shoving each other in their hurry to escape, slamming doors behind them. Jansen kicked the werewolf off of him with powerful legs, drew his wand, and blasted it with a _stupefy_, which stopped it only momentarily. A volley of hexes and curses did little more than irritate it. Unable to Disapparate within the wards surrounding the property, he made a wild dash for the exit. The werewolf, on all four paws, raced after him, easily overtook him, and buried its fangs in his back.

Shocked and furious, Lennar watched Carrow disappear. How dare that coward leave him alone! As the werewolf turned back to him, he tried the killing curse himself, to no avail. Antonin had told him of a spell he learned from Rabastan, one that killed werewolves…but what was it? In his hysterical state he couldn't remember.

The creature leaped on top of him, its jaws dripping a thin stream of bloody saliva. As he hurled dark spells as fast as he could think them, he managed only to stun it enough to keep it from mauling him beyond recognition, though it did slash him several times. At last he drove it back far enough to allow him to stagger outside the boundary where he Disapparated as well.

Jansen's werewolf picked up the wounded man and tossed him like a rag doll back in the direction of the brothel. He slapped the wall and dropped like a brick in a heap, barely hearing his leg snap over his screams. In a flash the werewolf was upon him, viciously tearing at his face and throat until his pathetic cries subsided into blissful unconsciousness and finally death.

The other werewolf wandered over to sniff the carcass. Together the two bounded into the building where they could smell the fear of howling women.

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When Lennar Apparated to the castle, he didn't know what he was thinking. He felt feverish and chilly at once, still shaking from the encounter, trailing blood from his shoulder bite and slash marks. One look at him made Bella draw her wand.

"Stop right there! What happened to you?" she demanded.

"Werewolves…attacked us…killed Jansen, I think," he mumbled. "Bastard Carrow ran away."

It was all he had time to say. Bella aimed her wand, and a moment later he lay dead on the floor. For good measure, she stood over him and recited the spell to kill werewolves—just in case he'd become one already.

"Bellatrix, is there any particular reason you've obliterated one of my Death Eaters?" Voldemort crossed his thin arms over his chest, affecting an indignant posture.

"He was a werewolf—well, he got bit by one," she replied as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "He was a liability."

"Tsk, tsk," Voldemort said. He came over to prod Lennar's body with a bare toe. Yep, he was good and dead. Naturally he was, _Bellatrix_ had seen to it. He couldn't hold back a tiny smile as he thought of her exemplary service to him. Nevertheless, he ought to object a little. "He could've continued to be a Death Eater, then join the werewolves on full moons. You really should think ahead."

"I'm sorry, my lord," she pouted, sorry only that she'd been gently rebuked. As far as she was concerned, every werewolf on the planet deserved to die!

"You've made the mess, you clean it up," he chided. "Take him to his family."

"I don't know where he lived," Bella returned petulantly. Sensing a growing impatience in her master, whose lips had tightened to a thinner line than usual, she stomped over on her spiky heels and bent down to take hold of the body, grimacing at the proximity to 'werewolf germs'. She would take him to Dolohov, let him figure it out.

After she left, Voldemort stood rock still, seething as he turned it over in his mind. This wasn't the first time Greyback's men had attacked Death Eaters, and he was sick and tired of losing troops. It wasn't as if he had unlimited numbers at his disposal, and gaining loyal followers wasn't a picnic, either. He'd have a little 'talk' with Greyback, make sure he fully understood the ramifications of messing with Lord Voldemort.

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Hard, thumping rhythms emanating from the night club dimmed substantially as the door closed behind Mateo and Tonia, who exited hand in hand, smiling. Mateo reached over to put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close to kiss her cheek. She gazed up at him with pure affection as they strolled down the dark street.

"That was so fun, Mateo. It's been a long time since we went out to enjoy ourselves."

"It really was fun," he agreed, grinning mischievously. "Though I didn't much appreciate having to fight the humans for your attention."

"Fight them?" Tonia cocked an eyebrow. "I'd hardly call using your hypnotizing ability as 'fighting'. All you did was cause them to ignore me, which made me feel insignificant." She jutted out her lower lip in protest.

"Would you prefer I hurt them?" he teased, running a finger down the bridge of her nose. "I could go back and crush their skulls. Would that make you happy?"

She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "You know it wouldn't. But I like their adoration the same as you enjoy the female attention…it makes me feel like a queen."

"I don't much care for their attention, and you're already a queen to me," Mateo said bluntly, not intending any humor or sarcasm. Tonia smiled up at him as he went on nervously. "We've been together for a while now, right?"

"Over a year, not counting the nine years of friendship before that," she answered. What was he driving at?

"Right." He smiled shyly. "Well, I…I think I ought to tell you I love you."

"You've already told me that," Tonia murmured.

"I should tell you like this," he amended, snatching her and whirling her to face him. His lips sought hers with a passionate intensity that momentarily took her breath away, then she hungrily reciprocated. For several minutes they stood on the sidewalk snogging like human teenagers, their hands roaming through each other's hair, caressing the outlines of their bodies, oblivious to passers-by.

At length Tonia pulled away, panting and laughing a little. "That's wonderful, Mateo, but you've done that, too."

"I'm not finished," he whispered huskily. With a sly wink he took her hand, scurried down an alley with Tonia in tow, then leaped into the air dragging her along with him.

They touched down in a meadow outside the town, where he immediately took her cheeks between his palms and kissed her again, leisurely this time, with a deliberation she'd never seen in him before. His one hand slid around to the back of her head while the other proceeded to slowly unbutton her neck-high Victorian era blouse.

Nerves on edge, Tonia allowed it, wondering why she felt so awkward. Granted, she'd not been with anyone since setting her sights on Mateo, and his very presence excited her in ways no man ever had, but she was no blushing virgin, and she'd wanted this for so long. It should feel relaxed, natural.

She tilted her head back and moaned softly as he smothered her neck with smooches. "Oh, Mateo…don't," she croaked.

Mateo stopped and lifted his face away from her, confused. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"I meant 'don't tease me'," she explained in a near whisper, looking at the ground. "I love you, Mateo, I love what you do, but you get me worked up, then go on your merry way. I'm starting to doubt if you truly want me…like that."

In answer Mateo slipped his shirt off and dropped it at his feet. "I've wanted you like this for a very long time, Tonia," he confessed, his voice catching. "I wasn't brought up to pounce on a woman like an animal. It isn't right to treat a queen like a slut." As if reconsidering his action, he backed away a step and bent over to pick up his shirt. "I just thought this was the right time. I shouldn't have assumed. If you don't want it, I won't push you."

Tonia stayed him with a hand on his arm; she took the shirt from his fingers and pitched it over her shoulder. "I've had to hold myself back from pouncing on _you_," she grinned. "And I very much want it."

Mateo's pale blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Pounce away." He made no effort to stop her from deftly unbuttoning his trousers.

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"I haven't made love in a field for decades," Tonia chuckled as she laid her face on Mateo's naked chest. "People might have watched us."

"I hope they learned something," he responded dryly, crushing her nude form to him. This felt so incredibly good!

Tonia swirled her fingers in circles on Mateo's hard stomach. Curiously she asked, "Your wife died centuries ago. Have you even been with anyone else since then?"

Although he knew it was impossible, he could swear he was blushing. Had he been that bad? It _had_ been quite a long time… Somewhat embarrassed that perhaps he hadn't fulfilled her expectations, he replied honestly, "Now and then, purely as a physical release. I don't particularly enjoy it unless I'm in love." Nuzzling her neck as much from sheer affection as to hide his face, he added, "I really, _really_ enjoyed tonight."

"So did I."

"So…you're not disappointed?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course not." She sat up, comprehension dawning. "Mateo, you idiot! I wasn't impugning your skill, I was just wondering because I've never known you to have a fling."

"Oh, good." That was a relief! Now for the nagging question that had preoccupied his mind for months. He sat up to look into Tonia's beautiful eyes; his mouth felt surprisingly dry all of a sudden. "Tonia, do you think we could get married?"

Taken aback, she simply stared. Not in a million life spans had she anticipated that question! "I—I don't know. I've never heard of _sangristas_ marrying, I'm not even sure it's possible. Who would perform the ceremony? No human priest, I'll bet."

"Is that a 'yes'?" he enquired, not able to pull off nonchalant. By the way he was wringing his hands until his knuckles showed white, he seemed downright anxious.

"Well…yes, I guess it is. But a priest—"

"A priest can be persuaded," he crooned with a wink. "Come, my love. Let's go find one."

"Not so fast, husband-to-be. I'd like one more demonstration of your love." She pressed on his chest in an attempt to push him to the ground.

Smiling, he easily resisted, shaking his head as he clucked his tongue. "Save it for our wedding night, Tonia. I'm not a whore." He laughed at her as she swiped at him, then stood up and offered his hand. "Shall we?"

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"You're looking dapper, son. What's the occasion?" Abraxas gave his son the once-over, noting the immaculate dress robes, the casually flowing hair, the cane Lucius clutched in one hand.

"I'm taking Narcissa out. She needs time off from the baby, and she deserves some pampering just for being my wife." He lifted his chin defiantly as if expecting an argument.

"That's very thoughtful, Lucius. You haven't dismissed your night nanny, have you?"

"Oh, no!" he responded emphatically, rapping the cane on the floor as he'd seen his father do innumerable times. "She's the one standing between us and insanity, but we'll likely be back by the time she arrives. I meant to ask you to watch Draco until then."

"Of course, it'll be my pleasure. My grandson loves his grandpapa," Abraxas smirked as he crossed the parlor to sit beside the fire. With the days becoming colder and wetter, he found himself spending a lot of time here. "How's Severus doing? I haven't seen him for some time."

"Last I saw, he was begging the dark lord not to kill that redheaded mudblood he's been carrying a torch for," Lucius answered, grimacing. "It's disgusting."

"Mudblood?" Abraxas echoed, turning in his chair. "What about Glenna?"

"In case you didn't hear, she got married a couple of years ago," Lucius responded. "Really, Father, try to keep up."

"Don't make me slap you," Abraxas growled. "You may own the cane, but you're still my son and you'll behave accordingly."

Rolling his eyes and sighing like a martyr, Lucius groaned, "Must you always play the 'I'm your father' card?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Severus loves Glenna, I think he always will, only he has to move on. This mudblood was someone he cared about before Glenna, and he claims he loves her as a friend. Who knows what he's thinking? He's been alone too long." He took his pocketwatch from his vest pocket, glancing at it with a small degree of impatience. What was taking that woman so long? "I'm going to get Narcissa. I'll bring Draco down."

So saying, he Apparated into his bedroom; a mere second later he heard a high pitched scream from the nursery. Without the slightest hesitation he tore out the door, his heart in his mouth. _Please, God, don't let anything be wrong with Draco!_ He burst through the door to find a wailing Draco in Narcissa's arms; she was soothing the baby while casting furious glares at Dobby.

"He dropped Draco!" she shrieked the moment she caught sight of her husband. Her glares dripped venom and accusations. "I asked him to hold the baby for a minute and he _dropped_ him!"

"Master Lucius, it was an accident!" sniffed the cringing elf.

Lucius looked back and forth only once before dashing to his wife's side to assure himself the child was unharmed. This was the last straw! All his life he'd endured that putrid elf spying on him, tattling on him, making his life harder and harsher than it needed to be, and he hated Dobby for it. Making Lucius' life miserable was one thing—turning his heinous sights on Lucius' son would not be tolerated! He'd teach that spiteful little bastard never to do it again.

With a wrath the intensity of which he'd never experienced before, he advanced slowly on the elf, keeping his voice surprisingly level and calm. "Narcissa, take our son downstairs to my father."

She complied without a word, though she made sure to avoid Dobby as she exited, giving him a bitter twist of her lips. Lucius stepped right up to the elf and kicked him in the head. Dobby sailed backward into the wall and stayed there, trembling.

"Master, Dobby is sorry—"

Lucius didn't answer, not with words. A fist clipped Dobby on the ear, followed by a flurry of blows and kicks that drove the creature to the floor where he whined and squealed as the wizard pummeled him unmercifully with both fists and the serpent head of the cane, even as Dobby begged for compassion and swore it hadn't been on purpose. Lucius knew better, he knew the horrid wretch had likely planned this event for weeks, had looked for an opportunity to hurt the child as a way to hurt Lucius. Well, never again.

At last, panting and exhausted, Lucius got up. Blood from Dobby's wounds stained his hands. "You—will never—harm my son—again," he warned through clenched teeth. "If you so much as touch him ever again without permission, I'll kill you. And don't think my father will protect you, because he won't! Now get out!"

Dobby Disapparated, leaving the fuming Lucius alone. There was no way Father could take that filthy creature's side this time, not with how much he loved Draco. For once, maybe he'd see that Lucius wasn't always in the wrong! Taking out his wand from the head of the cane, he _scourgified_ his hands and clothing. Another flick smoothed his hair into place. He wasn't in the mood for an evening out anymore, but he'd promised Narcissa, he couldn't let her down. Drawing himself up into a dignified Malfoy posture, he set off down the corridor toward the stairs.

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**October 7, 1980**

A full week had passed since Lord Voldemort's announcement that Harry Potter was the child selected for elimination. To Severus it felt more like a month—nay, a year—of mental anguish that tormented him relentlessly. As soon as any Death Eater got wind of Potter's whereabouts, Lily was done for. Why had he told the dark lord about the prophecy? Why?

_Because I wanted honor and praise_, he acknowledged shamefully to himself, yet even in his distress he had to admit there was more to it. He'd wanted to hasten the end of the war, to _save_ lives, and it had backfired in his face.

He'd racked his brain trying to figure a way out of this, a way to save Lily…and perhaps Potter's spawn, though he honestly couldn't care less what happened to James. His first thought had been to warn Lily, but how? He didn't know where she was or how to reach her. At great risk to himself, he'd disguised himself and gone to her mother, asking Mrs. Evans to get a message to Lily. Whether she'd been successful remained the question. And even if Lily had been warned of danger, how long could she hide from Death Eaters intent on finding her? There was only one person he knew of capable of protecting her from the dark lord, and who's to say he'd help? Lacking any other ideas, he'd have to try.

Severus sat down on his bed, a welcome relief to his feet, which had grown weary of pacing. How to get Dumbledore's attention? He couldn't say too much in case the owl were intercepted, nor did he sign his name for the same reason. When he'd determined what to say, he scrawled it onto a parchment, rolled it up, and tied it to his owl's leg.

"Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts School," he said over the lump in his throat.

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Albus didn't expect mail at this time of night, yet there it was, an owl perched on his bedroom windowsill tapping away. No doubt it had tried his office first, and finding him absent had tracked him here. He opened the window and took the parchment, which was damp from the cold mist hovering in the air.

_Dumbledore, I lied to you. Voldemort knows about Trelawney's prophecy. Meet me immediately just outside Hogwarts on the hilltop overlooking the lake._

_I lied to you._ Who? Dumbledore paused to consider the words carefully. He'd asked Severus Snape if he heard anything odd the night of the prophecy. As far as he could tell, Snape was the only one who could have heard it, besides himself of course. Had he heard it? And if so, how would Voldemort find out unless Severus told him? But why would he do that? How would he even know where to find the dark wizard?

The Headmaster's stomach bunched into a knot. How could he have been such a fool! It all made sense in retrospect: Snape was indeed a Death Eater as Sirius Black had maintained years earlier! As such, he'd have gladly taken the prophecy back to his master! And now Voldemort had sent his lackey with a message.

He crumpled the paper into a ball, his hands shaking with fury. He'd tried to be a friend to Snape, he'd helped him get a job… He'd felt this betrayed only once before in his life, with Gellert Grindelwald. Filled with indignation and ire, and unaware of Severus' emotional state, he failed to perceive the desperation written in the words, seeing instead a taunt, a flaunting in his face of how he'd tried to steer Severus onto a fruitful path.

"Very well, Voldemort, I'll play your little game, but only in hopes of gaining information to defeat you."

He slipped into his clothing, trudged across the property to the Hogwarts boundary, and Apparated to the indicated hilltop, not before sending a blinding, jagged jet of white light through the air to ascertain if this 'messenger' was alone. He saw Snape huddled against the wind, wand in hand, looking cold and fearful. The next instant Snape dropped to his knees and his wand flew from his grasp.


	68. Chapter 68

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Eight

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?" Dumbledore demanded, his visage cold and unmoved by Severus' suffering as he pleaded for help to save Lily.

"In—in return?" Snape looked up, startled and somewhat appalled. Dumbledore had done nothing but belittle and berate him for his actions, even for his thoughts, yet here he was refusing aid for an innocent party—a member of his stupid Order of the Phoenix, no less—unless Severus gave him something! What kind of man was he?

Thus far, this meeting hadn't boded well for gaining Dumbledore as an ally. It had, in fact, gone as badly as a conversation could possibly go, but the truth remained that Severus had caused this mess, he'd have to do whatever necessary to remedy it.

What had he to offer of any value? What could Dumbledore possibly expect from him? Disheartened yet desperate, he answered, "Anything."

With that one word he'd sealed his fate. Dumbledore had enlisted him as a spy against Voldemort, and he'd agreed due to his own guilt and feeling of helplessness. In the light of day, after spending the rest of the night reflecting on what he'd done, he honestly couldn't say he'd made a wise choice. Lacking alternatives, he'd been forced into spying against the most powerful dark wizard ever to live; it very well may be the last thing he ever did.

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"Remember what I told you, Eiros—silencing charm before anything else," cautioned Avery to his son as they slinked through the darkness. The younger man nodded.

Neither of the wizards wore their Death Eater robes, not here in a Muggle town where they'd come after information rather than to be spotted and reported to law officers. Dressed in trousers and plain shirts as close to Muggle as they could manage, they'd Apparated outside the town limits, then wended their way through the dirty streets of the smelly place, searching for the correct address.

The younger Avery halted and one finger pointed up at a sign. They both grinned and turned to walk in the indicated direction. After a few minutes they stopped in front of one of the houses in a long row; it was well maintained, not so smeared with soot as the rest in the row. Avery, Sr. led the way up the path, up the steps onto the porch, and knocked on the door, smiling pleasantly.

A middle aged woman peered through the curtain hanging over a small window in the door, then she tentatively opened it a few inches. "Yes?"

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Avery, this is my son. We're moving in down the street and we're trying to meet our neighbors. People at the last house told us you were Mrs. Evans."

"Yes, that's me."

"We'd like to met Mr. Evans, too, if he's home."

The woman twisted away, pointing into another room. "He's in—"

That was all they needed to hear. In a single movement Eiros had cast a silencing bubble around the property at the same time his father shoved open the door, pushing Mrs. Evans roughly to the side and drawing his wand. She let out a squawk of protest. Once inside, the men used their wands to lower the shades, then Avery stunned Mr. Evans as he came running at the sound of his wife's shriek. He dropped like a rock to the floor.

"Leave us alone!" shrilled the woman, who hurried to kneel at her husband's side. "What do you want?"

"Information, Mrs. Evans," answered Eiros. He stepped up beside his father. "Tell us what we want to know, and we'll go away."

"I don't know anything! Who are you?"

"Death Eaters," said Eiros smugly, enjoying the blanch of her face. Evidently she was acquainted with the term. "Tell us where your daughter is."

"I don't know, and I wouldn't tell you if I did," she spat.

"Pity I don't believe you." He aimed his wand and let fly a jet of yellow light.

Mrs. Evans slammed onto the floor next to her husband, now sporting a gash seeping blood from her temple. Mr. Avery moved in to stand over her. He prodded the side of the prone man who should be coming around by now.

"Mrs. Evans," he said in a condescending tone, "_We_ are wizards. _You_ are Muggles. Who do you think is going to win this battle?"

She kicked at him, catching him on the shin and causing him to swear and stumble backward. A hex from his wand whacked her on the cheek, which rapidly developed a dark bruise.

"I'm not playing around," he hissed. "Tell me or _he_ dies."

"No!" she screamed, shielding the man's body with her own.

Avery's son took a single step forward and shot a curse at her. It hit her on the back, she jolted upright for a split second, then slumped over the man. The two wizards stood staring for a moment, one triumphantly, the other confused.

Mr. Avery shuffled warily closer, bent down, and felt for a pulse. There was none. Eiros hadn't used _avada kedavra_, why was she dead? He whirled on his son. "What did you do?"

"I stopped her heart," replied the young man proudly.

Grim faced, his father motioned him over; when he was within reach, Mr. Avery backhanded him across the face, staggering him. "You fool, look what you've done! The plan was to torture the whereabouts of the Potter brat out of them. How are we supposed to do that when they're dead? The dark lord wants that information!"

Eiros fixed him with a sullen glare. Already a red hand mark had developed on his own face. "_He's_ still alive. We'll make him talk."

It would have been a fine plan but for one drawback: they seemed unable to stir the man. Avery kicked him in the ribs, eliciting no reaction. All further attempts to rouse Mr. Evans were futile. The earlier stun had, ironically, caused him to succumb to a heart attack. While not quite dead at first, he'd faded into oblivion even before Mrs. Evans had died.

The younger Avery toyed with the idea of slapping his father for killing the only other person able to tell them what they wanted to know—fair was fair, after all. He dismissed the idea, preferring to retain the use of his limbs.

Appearing gravely concerned, Mr. Avery paced up and down the floor, turning over the details in his mind. They'd found the Evans home unbeknownst to Lord Voldemort or any of the other Death Eaters. They'd hoped to get sole credit for finding the Potter family; now they'd be lucky to escape alive once blame for this travesty was assigned… Unless no one found out! Nobody knew they were here, they could leave…but the dark lord would suspect something if the bodies were found like this, he'd interrogate his followers. Eiros wasn't as good at Occlumency as his father, he'd be found out.

Avery continued pacing while Eiros regarded him nervously. His father was worried, which worried him. He was probably going to be punished for this, even though it wasn't totally his fault. It wasn't even that he was truly afraid of what his father might do—he was bright enough to realize Lord Voldemort would be furious if he knew what had occurred. It frightened him to imagine that being _crucio_'d might be the best he could hope for.

"Dad, what are we gonna do?" he whispered.

All at once Avery let out a relieved breath. He had it! They'd make it look like an accident! "Eiros, we have work to do."

Over the next half hour, they levitated the bodies into the Muggle car in the adjoining garage, then they _scourgified_ every trace of blood from the room. Almost as an afterthought they rifled through drawers all over the house in hopes of finding an address for Lily Potter, and came up empty, as Avery had suspected they would. A simple _arreglo_ spell returned everything to its place.

Mr. Avery picked up a set of keys hanging on a peg near the door and held them up for inspection. Although he had no idea how they worked, he _had_ once seen a Muggle putting a key into a slot next to the steering wheel. "Now we drive out into the country and push this contraption over a cliff," he said, trying to sound confident.

"Drive, dad? I don't know how, do you?" asked Eiros sarcastically.

"That's what magic is for, son. Now get in."

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For Lucius Malfoy to floo to Spinner's End without a drastic reason was highly unusual—so unusual, in fact, that when Severus saw him standing there bold as you please, he actually missed the coffee table with the glass of iced tea he'd meant to set down. It teetered off the rim of the table, tumbled onto the floor, and splashed everywhere.

"Lucius! What are you—is everything alright?"

"I could ask the same," replied the other, scowling as he strode out of the fireplace brushing off his clothing. "I hate using the floo, it's a mess."

Severus took out his wand to dry up the sopping tea-spattered rug. "So I take it this is a social call?" he asked warily. Lucius Malfoy did NOT make a habit of trolling the slums.

"Of sorts." Not content with merely dusting himself off, Lucius performed a quick cleansing spell on himself, flipped his hair over his shoulder, and primly sat down on the edge of one of the decrepit armchairs. "You've been ignoring my owls. May I ask why?"

His friend shrugged and slumped onto the couch. "I'm not really in the mood for chit chat."

"Still brooding over the mudblood, Severus? The master said no one is to harm her."

"Unless she gets in the way," Snape muttered, half under his breath. He didn't feel the need to hide his bitterness from Lucius. "And she will. She won't give up her son without a fight."

"What do you care? She's a nobody…a _mudblood_."

"She was my first friend!" Severus snarled, looking like he wanted to do bodily harm. "You should understand _that_, Malfoy. You've told me you have precious few friends; do you want to lose the ones you have?"

Slightly bewildered at the attack, Lucius drew back a bit. "What has this got to do with me?"

"_Empathy_. You're intelligent, I'm sure you comprehend the word," said Snape in a biting tone. "_I_ brought the prophecy to Lord Voldemort, and because of it Lily may die. How do you think I feel?"

"Pretty awful from the looks of it," Lucius admitted. When he thought of it that way, he guessed Severus had sufficient reason for acting waspish. For the life of him, he couldn't envision himself befriending a mudblood, but Severus was different. He was half Muggle, he'd been brought up in this filthy hole of a Muggle town. Finding a witch to play with must have been something akin to finding a pot of galleons on his front doorstep, regardless of the fact that she was no better than a Muggle herself. What was that saying… 'If a man gets thirsty enough, he'll drink even from a sewer'. How true.

"What did you say?" The glower emanating from Severus seemed to pierce right through Lucius.

"What? I said you feel awful."

"And the bit about drinking from a sewer?"

Lucius paused, mortified. Damn it, had he said that out loud? His father used to get on him for being too big mouthed. No, upon reflection he was sure he hadn't said it, which meant— "How dare you invade my mind! You have no right!"

It was Severus' turn to hesitate. He'd been looking at Malfoy as he spoke, and…and Lucius was right, he _had_ used Legilimency without even intending to. Even so, what Lucius was thinking was downright insulting! "I didn't mean to—you ought to shield yourself better."

"I didn't think I had to with you, but believe me, from now on I will!" He crossed his arms and threw himself back into the chair, sulking like a child. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long period that felt much longer than it was.

"Well, this is pleasant," Severus observed dryly. "We really should do it more often."

At last Lucius said, "I suppose you heard about the Evans couple. If the dark lord has already found out, he must be beside himself with fury at losing such an opportunity."

"I heard. And I don't believe for a second that it was an accident."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "The Muggle authorities ruled it a car accident. The Ministry agrees with them. Do you think they committed suicide?"

"I think some of our companions are responsible," said Severus.

He met a sneer from Lucius' corner. "Why would a Death Eater kill them? They could've told us where to find the Potters. Most of our comrades would jump at the chance to 'talk' to them to get the information Lord Voldemort wants so badly. Unless of course these phantom Death Eaters simply enjoy dancing under the Cruciatus for whacking perfectly good informants. I know _I_ do," he added enthusiastically with a wry smirk, rolling his eyes again. "Honestly, Snape, you're getting seriously paranoid."

"Piss off," Snape muttered.

"Hmm. Not up to your usual standard of disparagement, Severus. Are you feeling well?" Lucius grinned.

"You're such a jackass, Malfoy."

"Why? Because I don't buy your asinine theory?" queried Lucius, cocking one eyebrow, just before his brows pulled together into a frown of pain, the same expression mirrored on Severus' face. Both men cast a glance at their left forearms. "I have to go home for my robes." In a flash he was in the fireplace, then gone.

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When Lucius and Severus answered the dark lord's summons, they fully anticipated arriving at the castle. To end up in a small clearing in a forest, surrounded by unfamiliar men, was a surprise, to put it mildly. Instinctively they drew their wands and faced the strangers, noting as they did so that the other Death Eaters present had done the same. As more of their companions steadily made an appearance, they began to feel less outnumbered and edgy.

A tall, hulking figure in an ill-fitting Death Eater robe stalked out of the shadows, his gray hair immediately giving away his identity. With one mighty mitt he pushed aside one of the men to clear a path for the dark wizard, who marched into the clearing behind him. As one, the Death Eaters dropped to their knees.

"Get up," instructed Voldemort, his high voice sounding strained.

They obeyed, automatically forming a circle around him, none daring to speak until addressed. The dark lord looked around at his masked followers with an air of pride. Greyback may command the werewolves, but their allegiance couldn't compare to the deference of his own troops.

"My Death Eaters, you've heard of the recent attack upon three of our members, two of whom did not survive." Still no one made so much as a peep; it wasn't an invitation to run off at the mouth. News traveled fast, naturally they were all aware of the gruesome deaths of Jansen and Lennar. "Werewolves murdered my wizards. I will not tolerate this."

Those standing along the fringes of the circle shifted nervously, perhaps wondering if the Death Eaters had come to assail them. Many of them looked to Greyback for guidance, but he steadfastly kept his eyes on Voldemort.

The dark lord shifted his gaze to those outside the circle, turning his head to make certain each one felt his heavy glare. Their uneasy wriggling told him they felt it quite strongly. "I've spoken to Greyback about his lax attitude concerning his men. He assures me it won't happen again."

As the glower came to rest on the werewolf leader, he seemed to shrink a touch. In a rough voice he barked, "There are to be no more attacks without authorization. Anybody breaches my order, I'll tear him apart."

"Fenrir," prompted Voldemort in a sickly smooth voice. "I want those responsible."

The shaggy man nodded, turning to face his own. It peeved him to do this, to bow to the demands of the dark wizard, yet he had no choice. He'd made a pact, he'd vowed the loyalty of himself and his pack. Allowing two of his werewolves to murder Voldemort's followers without retribution was hardly the way to seal the agreement, and if he tried to back out of the alliance he'd be dead before the words left his mouth. It was far better to serve, to win the war, and to be permitted free access to Muggles thereafter.

"Which of you did it?" Greyback asked.

Understandably, no one stepped forward. Voldemort lifted his wand, causing the werewolf's heart to skip a beat.

"_Who did it_?" Greyback thundered, grabbing the nearest man by the throat and shaking him like a rag doll. He dropped the fellow, who lay gasping on the ground, clutching his neck and shaking his head as if to say 'not me'. "If any of you know, you'd better tell before Lord Voldemort starts killing us all one at a time!"

"Wetherby was over that way," a timid voice announced. "Coulda been him."

All the werewolves focused on the one named Wetherby, who protested loudly and began to back up. Greyback lunged over, snatched him by the front of his shirt, and hauled him over to Voldemort where he flung him to his knees.

"It wasn't me!" he cried, trying to scuttle backward but unable to due to Greyback's foot on his spine.

Voldemort's red eyes peered deeply into the other man's eyes, making him feel weak and dizzy as Voldemort rummaged through his mind. A cruel smile lifted the corner of the dark lord's lips. "This is one of them. The other is called Ellison."

The named man yelped and started to run. Three of his comrades tackled him as he tried to flee; they dragged him up into the circle and tossed him down beside Wetherby. He didn't bother to deny his part in the carnage, having witnessed the wizard's apparent ability to read minds. As his means of escape had been cut off, he defiantly got to his feet.

"We didn't know they were Death Eaters. How were we supposed to know?"

Lord Voldemort answered with an electrifying jolt from his wand that literally knocked him off his feet. He landed on his back, sore and winded.

"You killed my men. Now you pay the consequence."

"I didn't know!" Ellison shouted.

The Cruciatus sent him into near convulsions of writhing agony. Voldemort's thin lips parted in a vicious smile as he watched, eagerly absorbing and inhaling the torment. Beside him, the lithe figure of Bella in her robes and mask was leaning forward, evidently enjoying the scene as much as he was. He made a gesture to her and she let out an excited hoot. The next instant her wand was out and she _crucio_'d Wetherby, mixing his screams with Ellison's.

In the circle, most of the Death Eaters observed the proceedings with a macabre delight; others merely stood silently. Severus kept his eyes on the scene as long as he could, and when he felt sure nobody was bothering to watch him, he dropped his gaze to the ground. It did nothing to alleviate the grotesque cries, the pleas for mercy in between bouts of punishment.

With far more practice at enduring torture sessions, Lucius had learned to mentally dissociate himself when not directly participating. His body remained, he seemed intent on the action, yet his mind stole away to work or home, settling now on an image of Narcissa holding Draco, rocking him softly as he slept. He never tired of seeing his beloved ones. The horrific shrieks of pain in the background failed to penetrate his fantasy.

Among the werewolves, there appeared to be a panic spreading as they pondered whether they might be next, especially since their leader was doing nothing to put a stop to the torture. They slowly inched backward towards the forest, unnoticed by the vast majority of the Death Eaters, who were too caught up in what was happening to care about the werewolves.

The dark lord and Bella were holding this particular curse far longer than any of them had ever witnessed, almost as if competing to see who could hold on the longest. The minions waited with baited breath to see what the outcome would be as the hoarse screams died into whimpers that ceased to echo in the clearing.

Voldemort lifted his wand once more, long enough for Ellison to beg in a ragged voice, "Please kill me. Please."

"As you wish," Voldemort crooned. "_Avada kedavra_." Ellison rolled over onto his stomach with an expression of blessed relief in death. "Bellatrix, let the werewolf speak."

Reluctantly she raised her wand, but Wetherby was too far gone to say anything. He panted and sobbed in a near-voiceless manner, unable even to raise his head. With a shrug, she finished him off.

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"You're late, Severus." Dumbledore turned from the portrait he'd been chatting with to see Snape standing against the wall by the door. "Do come in."

Severus practically tiptoed over to the chair and lowered himself into it, all the while feeling like a chastised schoolboy. He didn't want to be here, he loathed what he was being coerced into doing, and he positively hated that damnable superior attitude the old wizard lorded over him.

"I was at a meeting," he snapped, eyes downcast.

"With Lord Voldemort?" Dumbledore popped a taffy into his mouth.

_No, with the bloody tooth fairy!_ "Who else?"

"What was the meeting about?" Straightforward, no preliminaries, no 'How are you, Severus'. Get to the point and get out.

"It wasn't for us, exactly," Snape mumbled, shifting in his chair. "He was punishing werewolves…torturing them, to be precise, making them beg for death."

That got Dumbledore's attention. His perennially twinkling eyes grew hard and he leaned in. "Why? Or does he need a reason?"

"They killed two Death Eaters last full moon. He was making an example of them. Greyback agreed to keep the rest in line."

"Greyback?" asked Dumbledore. "Fenrir Greyback?"

"You know him," said Snape, looking up in surprise. _How charming._ "The dark lord made an alliance with him and his men. I thought you knew."

"It's been rumored about, and I had my suspicions that Voldemort was behind this string of werewolf attacks," the Headmaster concurred. "Although I'm frankly astounded that he would lower himself to consort with werewolves."

_Bigoted, are we, Dumbledore?_ "Only because the vampires refused to join him," Severus spouted. It gave him a degree of pleasure to witness the old man stunned yet again. "But nobody is supposed to know about that. Most of the Death Eaters don't even know."

"Voldemort's pride wouldn't allow it," Dumbledore said as he unwrapped another taffy. In his same dispassionate tone he'd used the entire conversation, he went on, "I'll ask you again what I asked you the night you came to me, Severus. Name for me the Death Eaters."

Snape's heart froze in his chest. Why couldn't Dumbledore get it through his head that it was too dangerous for him to do such a thing? Did he want Snape to get caught and hideously tortured—that being a best-case scenario? Did he even care? Probably not, as long as he got what he wanted.

"I can't tell you that, Dumbledore. It would be far too easy for them to figure out who turned traitor, and I'd be dead."

In what sounded very much to Severus like condescending rubbish, the older man replied, "Your Occlumency skills are exemplary, they fooled even me. No doubt you can fool Voldemort, else I wouldn't have asked you to spy on him."

Severus declined to answer, primarily because the only things on the tip of his tongue were vulgar and hateful. Did Dumbledore think the dark lord was an idiot? If he began ratting out names and Death Eaters were arrested, the master would get to the bottom of it very quickly, in a most heinous fashion. Dumbledore had no consideration for his life; as far as that old fool was concerned, Snape could be tortured, dismembered, and his parts sent to the corners of the Earth, and his Occlumency skills wouldn't save him! And yet here he was, under the old man's thumb, a pawn in his game, to be treated with contempt without the ability to object lest he be handed over to the authorities and spend the rest of his miserable life in Azkaban.

Keeping his voice on an even keel, Severus asked, "May I inquire where the Potters are, Headmaster? You promised you'd protect them if I worked for you."

"They're safe," Dumbledore assured him. "However, I'm not convinced that revealing their location would be prudent."

"Revealing their location, or revealing it to _me_?" asked Snape acrimoniously.

"Perhaps both," acknowledged the ancient wizard, giving one of his patronizing smiles. "You _are_ a Death Eater."

"If I intended to harm them, I wouldn't have come to you," he retorted, realizing how futile his protestations were.

"All the same, the less you know, the less that can be pried from you. Agreed?" Another taffy found itself stuffed into the Headmaster's mouth. Speaking thickly around the candy he said, "Would you like a taffy?"

"No, thank you. May I go now, or is there something else?"

"For the time being, that is all. I trust you will notify me if Voldemort hatches another scheme." He sucked on his candy and waited to finish what he was saying until Snape had gotten up. "And if I have need of you, I will be in touch."

"Yes, sir," Severus answered automatically. He spun around and headed for the door, anxious to escape.

"And Severus—don't be a stranger. Your brother and sister miss you. Your visits to them will easily cloak our meetings, don't you think?"

Severus turned and stared for a second, not sure he'd heard correctly. Was Dumbledore suggesting he use his siblings in this deathly game as well? Come what may, he'd kill or die for them, but he'd not use them to shield him. "You want me to pretend to visit them in order to fool the dark lord while I'm seeing you?"

"No, not at all. You really ought to keep in touch. I'm simply observing how the two overlap." Another infuriating smile.

Severus whirled and nearly ran from the office, his mind reeling. This was all happening too fast, this whole 'spying on the most dangerous man on the planet' thing. He honestly didn't know how long he could maintain the charade or cope with the duplicity. As if he had a choice. And now Dumbledore had the gall to bring his siblings into the equation. God Almighty, how he was coming to despise that man!


	69. Chapter 69

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Sixty-Nine

"Lucius, let go of my bum," Narcissa sighed, making no move to brush his hand off her rear.

With his lips pressed almost against her scalp he murmured, "I thought you liked it when I gave you special attention." His fingers squeezed her rump appreciatively as they stood facing each other on the front porch of the manor. "It's so good to get out alone for a change."

"For the second time in a fortnight," she added, leaning against him, laying her head on his chest. "It was glorious, I'm so glad you took me out, but I still worry about Draco. I can't wait to get back to him."

"He's probably sleeping. If you wake him, the nanny will have your head." A handsome smile parted his lips. "And it's such a lovely head." He bent down to kiss her. Not satisfied with one kiss, he clutched her to him and ravaged her lips with his, losing himself in his love for her.

As his growing primal need became evident against her, Narcissa tittered, causing him to pause and draw his face back slightly, questioningly. In answer to his unspoken question, she smirked, "You're so easy."

Feigning offense, he replied, "Are you calling me cheap, Mrs. Malfoy? I'll have you know that you're the only one I service, and to my recollection you find our activities quite delectable."

"I can't argue there, love," she laughed, planting another kiss on his chin. "And for the record, I'm glad you're easy to arouse. It makes me feel loved."

"Because you are," he breathed in her ear.

"Am I interrupting?"

Lucius swung around, shielding Narcissa with his body as he whipped out his wand. When he saw who it was, he exhaled hard and uttered in exasperation, "Damn it, Mateo, would you stop popping up like that? You're liable to give me a heart attack!"

Silently mimicking him, Mateo glided around to greet Narcissa with a small bow as she looked on in consternation. "Really, Lucius, get a grip. I thought I came from heartier stock."

Stowing his wand back in his cane, Lucius drawled, "Are you here for a reason or merely to regale me with your half-wit?"

Narcissa snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. "I'm sorry, Mateo," she flushed.

"No problem, sweet lady. Touché, Lucius." Mateo wandered to the edge of the porch to signal to someone they couldn't make out in the darkness. "I am indeed here for a reason. To announce my wedded bliss."

"Your _what_?" exclaimed Lucius.

Just then Tonia flew up and landed delicately on the top step. In a flowing gait she moved toward Mateo, who rushed to cradle an arm around her waist. He grinned like the newlywed he was and whispered in her ear. She smiled shyly, glancing up at the other couple.

"Tonia and I got married a couple of weeks ago. We're on our honeymoon, traveling all around. I wanted my dear nephew to know."

Neither Narcissa nor Lucius was capable of speech, what with their mouths hanging open like slack-jawed gawkers. They stood there at length until Mateo began to think it might have been a mistake to show up like this. Coming to her senses, Narcissa held out a hand to the male vampire.

"Congratulations, Mateo. I didn't even know marriage with…you people…was possible."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," he quoted, smiling contentedly.

Narcissa extended a hand to Tonia, struck by the chilliness of both of the vampires' hands. "_Felicidades_, Tonia."

"_Gracias_," responded Tonia, pleased to be addressed in her native tongue.

"Lucius," prompted Narcissa with a sharp elbow to his ribs.

"Of course, my congratulations as well," he grunted, offering his hand to them both in turn. That pointy elbow hurt, he'd have to make her feel guilty later—like when he flaunted the glaring bruise in front of her.

"Won't you come in the house?" said Narcissa, pulling back to open the door. She purposely ignored the ghastly distressed look on her husband's otherwise perfect features.

Mateo hesitated and looked to Lucius. "Is it alright?"

"I—uh," Lucius stammered in a very un-Malfoy-like manner. _Way to put me on the spot, Narcissa!_ His brain vacillated rapidly between his desire and what he ought to do. His father wouldn't approve, that was certain, yet this was his home, too. Hadn't he the right to guests? But vampires? He knew they wouldn't harm the family. He felt suddenly very warm despite the cool October night. If he hadn't been brought up in a dignified manner, he'd have chewed his lip anxiously. A compromise—take them barely into the mansion. "Sure. Let's go into the parlor off the foyer."

The four of them ambled in, Mateo and Tonia gaping at the splendor of this one bit of the manor. How much more stupendous must the full effect be? They seated themselves in a circle around a coffee table in the parlor.

"May I offer you refreshments?" asked Narcissa.

Mateo's eyes crinkled around the corners and he smiled broadly, exposing his fangs. "We don't eat, Narcissa. Unless you have some blood on hand? Maybe one of your house elves?" Not expecting her to take it seriously, he thought it patently hilarious how easy she was to fool.

"I'd be happy to give you Dobby, as long as you promise to kill him and not make him a vampire to torment me forever," Lucius remarked dryly, smirking at his great-uncle.

Only Narcissa seemed out of the loop, unaware of the jest passing between them. Horrified, she gasped, "Lucius, your father would have a fit!"

Between translating the conversation for Tonia, who chuckled quietly, Mateo quipped, "Very protective of his possessions, is he?"

"Extremely so, I'm afraid. Pity, too, since I despise the putrid runt." Lucius glanced over at Tonia, feeling a twinge of conscience. As host, he ought to be showing her a good time, yet he couldn't even speak the language! "Tonia, _estoy embarazado porque…_" How the hell did one say in Spanish 'because I was too obstinate to pay proper attention to my Spanish tutor'?

His preoccupation was soon shattered by the two vampires snickering—Tonia genteelly trying to hide her merriment behind her hand, Mateo dropping his head and shaking with laughter.

Lucius drew himself up into a stiff posture. "What's so funny?"

Eyes glinting with the kind of glee a child gets from watching a sibling squirm under pressure, Mateo remarked, "Aside from the fact that you're pregnant?"

"What?" said Lucius as scarlet crept into his cheeks.

"That's what you said," Mateo replied innocently. "I do hope Narcissa is the mother—or would that be father?"

"Oh, shut up," snapped Lucius, his face as red as a beet. "I was endeavoring to speak to your wife, to include her in the conversation."

"And she appreciates it," answered Mateo, forcing a straight face. "We shouldn't have derided your attempt. I'm sorry."

Not sure if Mateo was truly sincere or building up for another go at him, Lucius merely nodded cautiously. Narcissa leaned over to hold his hand and smile at him, a beautiful smile that couldn't hide her own amusement at his discomfort. Nevertheless, she said nothing, so he let it go.

"Your father looks a lot like you," observed Mateo out of the blue.

"How do you know?" Lucius' eyes began to follow the _sangrista's_ line of sight, right before the voice unexpectedly bellowed his name.

"_Lucius_!"

Startled, he leapt halfway out of the chair and whirled around. "Father, it isn't necessary to shout."

"He's been really jumpy lately," Mateo interjected by way of explanation, shaking his head sagely.

Lucius turned to glare him into silence, then faced his sire once more, noting the despicable Dobby crouched at Abraxas' ankles, pointing and mumbling.

"There, Master Malfoy! The white-face-only-comes-at-night man what always stays on the porch. Dobby told Master he was in the house."

If he'd had anything in his hand, Lucius would have chucked it at the blasted elf. He settled for growling, "Get out of my sight, Dobby, you vile creature." Dobby cringed and retreated behind Abraxas' legs, peering round.

Abraxas held up a hand and all talk ceased. Tight-lipped he said, "Dobby, return to your duties. Son, I'd like to speak with you." It was obviously not a request. He spun on his heel and stalked off, fully expecting Lucius to follow.

Unwilling to cause a stir in front of company, Lucius excused himself and trailed out after him like an obedient son, though in his mind he raged at Dobby for his meddlesome ways. In truth, he'd be perfectly willing to give Dobby to Mateo, if only to be rid of the little creep—provided he murdered him, of course. That would be a non-negotiable condition. Abraxas wouldn't allow his son to kill the bastard, and he couldn't sell him or free him since the elf knew too many Malfoy secrets. What recourse did he have?

The two men ended up in a room just down the hall, where Abraxas wasted no time in confronting his son in a tone that brooked no argument. "I will not have you entertaining Death Eaters in my home, is that understood?"

Lucius seemed immune to the tone. "I understand, but—"

"No buts! You will comply with my wishes. Now get him out."

"No." Instinctively Lucius drew back in dismay as his ears heard what his mouth had said.

The silver grey of Abraxas' eyes hardened to something akin to steel. "_What_ did you say?"

Backpedaling ferociously, Lucius gulped. "I _meant_ to say he's not a Death Eater, so he doesn't fit the profile of prohibited guests. Sir."

"He's not a Death Eater?" his father repeated in disbelief. "Then why does he only come here at night and slink around on the porch or in the shadows?"

_Damn that snooping Dobby to hell!_ "I'd…_prefer_…not to answer that," said the young man slowly, tilting his chin up slightly.

Not to be outdone, Abraxas took a single menacing step closer to his son, who started to back up before consciously stopping himself. In a smooth, low croon the older man responded, "And I'd prefer not to beat you senseless, but I won't tolerate defiance. You've known that all your life. Why must we have this discussion on a periodic basis?"

"Because I don't like having my father run my life," retorted Lucius. "I'm not a child, I'm twenty-four years old!"

"Precisely my point!" hissed Abraxas. "I shouldn't have to dictate your actions, you ought to be a responsible adult, not sneaking around behind my back and keeping secrets. This is my house, what goes on here concerns me as well as your wife and son."

"Alright, Father, if you want to know so badly, here it is. Mateo is my great-great-great-to the something-uncle." He fixed his father with an insolent, challenging stare. "Which also makes him _your_ great-great-whatever-uncle."

"Do you think that's funny, son?" Evidently Abraxas did not think so. If his lips pinched any tighter, they might disappear entirely.

"Funny 'ha-ha' or funny 'strange'? Personally, I think it's a little of both," said Lucius in a tone that could be construed as flippant. When he noticed his father's jaw clenching, experience suggested it signal the end of this charade, lest he wind up in a great deal of pain. "Perhaps you should sit down, Father."

Abraxas remained motionless exactly where he was, waves of ire starting to roll off him like waves off the shoreline. "I think not," he clipped.

"Well perhaps I should sit down," Lucius murmured, taking the opportunity to distance himself out of arm's reach and most of the way across the room where he perched uneasily in an overstuffed chair. "First, I want you to understand that Mateo isn't a danger to us. He's a Malfoy."

"Lucius, I know our family tree as well as you do, don't even _try_ to lie to me," warned the patriarch.

"He's not on the family tree…it's a long story, Father, but the short of it is he's Silvanus Malfoy's bastard son…and-he's-a-vampire." He tried to quickly slip in the last part, hoping it wouldn't be noticed too much. No such luck.

There was dead silence while Abraxas processed what were obviously mad ramblings or an exceptionally poor idea of a joke. With Lucius' warped sense of humor, he couldn't be quite sure. "Pardon me?"

This was his only chance to win the man over, he'd better make it good. "Mateo and Tonia protected our family by killing a pack of werewolves on the estate not long ago. I didn't mention them so as not to worry you." Did that rant sound as odd to his father as it had to him? Yes, it appeared it did. His father had taken on a concerned, pitying look to replace his anger.

"Lucius, have you completely lost your mind?"

"Please, Father, come sit down. I need to tell you everything, starting with that visit to Spain…"

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**October 30, 1980**

"We'll be turning quills into miniature brooms," drifted Minerva McGonagall's warbling voice over her first-year classroom. "Thus." Between two fingers she held a quill, in the other hand her wand. Speaking slowly and clearly, she tapped her wand on the quill. "_Modifien en te brome._"

The black shaft of the quill lengthened slightly and got thicker; the red feather shortened and bushed out. Another flick of Minerva's wand sent the tiny broom sailing around the room, diving and flying among the excitedly chattering students who tried unsuccessfully to catch it before it returned to the professor.

"You may begin."

Justina glanced furtively around the room. Where was Julius? He'd never missed class before, at least not any they shared. The table he typically sat at was empty: his partner was conspicuously absent, too, making it unlikely Julius was ill.

She'd have to deal with her brother later. Right now she had a spell to master. She smiled over at her Ravenclaw companion who'd already proudly produced a perfectly formed broom.

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A Ravenclaw boldly marching over to the Slytherin tables was an uncommon sight indeed in the Great Hall. For a first year, it was blatantly unheard of, yet here she came, to the amazement of the lower years and the amusement of the older students, who watched with interest.

"Tina, go away," Julius directed, not too loud, but loud enough to show he meant business.

She responded to his command with a sneer to rival any Slytherin. A few of them even awarded her admiring nods. The girl was good! "Why weren't you in class?"

"Because."

"I'm telling mum."

"No, you're not! I was busy," he yelped. He got out of his seat to drag her off away from prying ears. "You'd better not tell. Just mind your own business, I'll be there next time."

"Don't tell me what to do!" she fumed. "Where were you?"

Julius chanced a glimpse back at the Slytherins to see most of the firsties still staring at their family reunion. Embarrassed, he turned back to his sister. "I mean it, Tina. If you tell mum, I'll punch you out, I don't care if I get detention."

"I fight as good as you," she sniped back. Surely he hadn't forgotten their many years of skirmishes! So he'd grown a little, not enough to cow her.

"Only _you_ don't wanna get in trouble, and _I_ don't care," Julius taunted.

"Fine, I won't tell mum," she acquiesced, to his relief. She turned and flounced off, purposely causing her robes to billow in the cool way she'd seen Severus do. A sly smirk spread over her face. She'd visit the owlery after lunch.

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No, it wasn't bad enough he worked for Lord Voldemort, that he had to answer at his beck and call. Now he worked for Dumbledore as well, yet another arrogant wizard to rule his life. And _now_, as if his life didn't already bite in the worst possible way, Julius was making a nuisance of himself, wasting the opportunity for a magical education. Severus was, to put it mildly, not pleased.

When he entered the Slytherin common room, his scowl literally intimidated two first years into bolting for their rooms. One of the Prefects, looking up from his studies, contemplated approaching the man when he headed for the male dormitory, but Severus' resemblance to Julius and his furious demeanor acted as a strong deterrent. He stuck his nose back into his Ancient Runes text.

Severus flung open one door he knew to belong to first years, his hawk eyes glanced around at the astonished boys staring at him, and he walked on past to the next room. Julius was sitting on his bed talking to his roommates, all of whom looked up when he entered.

"Leave," he said plainly, a command the others obeyed without question, scrambling over each other in their rush to escape. He didn't bother to shut the door, he didn't care who might be snooping around.

The boy slid off his bed apprehensively. "Why are you here?"

"Tina told me you're skipping classes." The alarmed expression on Julius' face confirmed it. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I don't have to answer to you, you're not dad," retorted Julius.

"You're lucky I'm not!" Tired from having come straight from work, Severus was in no mood for this crap. He grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him close to stare into his eyes, long enough to see what he needed.

Squirming wildly, the boy broke free. "Stop reading my mind!"

"So, you've been spending time with older boys at the lake," drawled Severus. "Are they teaching you those dark spells or just letting you watch?"

"Watching," Julius admitted grumpily.

"See, that's a pure waste of time! Mum doesn't send you to school to miss classes, Julius, nor to hang around with that sort." Truth be told, it unnerved him to see his brother rubbing elbows with what were, judging by their activities, future Death Eaters. It was something he absolutely would not—_could not_—permit to continue, not if he loved the kid. "From now on, you're going to attend all your classes and stay away from those older boys. They're trouble. That's an order."

"You can't make me."

"Oh, can't I?" _Impudent brat!_ He'd been afraid it would come to this. Julius seemed incapable of taking seriously anything not involving bodily harm. Taking out his wand, he transfigured a quill laying on the desk—the very quill Julius was supposed to have transformed into a broom—into a thick switch that looked as if it had come from the Whomping Willow. "Turn around."

Julius' eyes grew to the size of lemons and he backed away. "No, Severus, I'll be good!" he whimpered.

"Don't make me force you." Severus sliced the switch through the air, producing a harsh whistling sound.

"Please, I'll be good, I promise!" Julius squealed, his voice cracking. Trembling, he backed up as far as his bed, where his legs bumped into the mattress, and he began to cry. "I'll go—to class—and—and—not hang—with them," he sobbed. The very thought of his beloved brother whipping him hurt as much as dad's beatings ever had.

Severus stayed put where he was. He remembered the terror of his father approaching with the belt dangling in his hand; he couldn't bear to frighten Julius that way. Tossing the switch onto the floor, he transfigured it back into a quill. In a deliberately hard voice he said, "This is your only warning, Julius. Next time I'll punish you the way you've earned. I'll be coming back every now and then to see you, and I _will_ be checking your memory."

Julius nodded vigorously, wiping his sleeve across his eyes as his frantic weeping diminished yet didn't abate. Then he thrust himself forward, ramming into his brother and wrapping his arms around him. Severus hugged him in return and patted his head gently as the boy sniffled against him. As much as he hated to think it, if his brother reneged on his promise, he'd be compelled to punish the kid; if he didn't, Julius would never take his threats seriously again. Regardless of how it might pain him to do so, he'd do whatever necessary to keep his brother from ending up as _he_ had.

"I'm going now, Julius. Remember what I said."

"I will," came the boy's small voice.

All the way across Hogwarts grounds Severus brooded over the incident. He hoped he'd caught it in time, before the bigger boys tried to recruit Julius. He Apparated back to Diagon Alley to gather a few herbs to take home, but in his distracted state he nearly ran smack into an old chum. Nott pulled up short and grinned. While they saw each other occasionally at Death Eater meetings, those events didn't exactly lend themselves to socializing.

"Sev! How've you been?" he greeted, pumping Severus' hand up and down.

"Alright. You?"

"Great! Hey, did you hear we had a kid—a boy! Theodore's his name, born in August," bragged the proud father.

"Congratulations. Tell you wife I said so." Severus glanced impatiently at the Potions shop only meters away. "Maybe sometime I'll come by and meet your son."

"Yeah, you do that. Come on, since we're here, come have a drink with me, let's celebrate," Nott invited. "I know, you say you don't drink, but one won't hurt. Come on." He took Severus by the arm and started to lead him along.

To Severus' surprise, he let himself be led. He hadn't spoken to Nott in ages, it would be kind of nice to catch up. And what could one drink hurt? It wasn't as if he'd get drunk and abusive from ONE drink, and as wound up as he was, it might relax him. It was a celebration, after all. "Just one—and ale, not firewhiskey." It wasn't so strong, he'd have nothing to worry about.

'Just one' somehow turned into so many Severus lost count after number seven, at which point he was failing to refuse the advances of a skimpily clad tart whose attractiveness had increased exponentially as the night wore on. Nott excused himself to go home to his wife, leaving Severus in the clutches of the woman, and happy to be there. The last thing he remembered before waking up in a strange bed with said woman was remarking on what lovely green eyes she had.

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Lucius had a million things on his mind. Here it was, the day before Halloween, and tomorrow they were hosting a party, Draco's big introduction to society. For almost five months he and Narcissa had kept the child out of the public eye, but people were beginning to talk, beginning to wonder if they'd birthed a squib—or worse. Must put those rumors to rest.

Meanwhile, Lord Voldemort was breathing down the necks of his most trusted Death Eaters, harassing them at all hours and demanding to know what progress had been made in finding the Potter brat. To Lucius' knowledge, every avenue had been explored, every possibility scoured. They seemed to have dropped off the Earth.

Lucius had begun to worry that if Potter weren't found soon, the dark lord might resort to more creative incentives to entice his followers to try harder…and it made his heart almost shrivel to think those 'incentives' might include harming his family. He knew for a fact that the dark lord had punished Death Eaters in the past by massacring their loved ones, and he had no intention of joining that group. He despised the idea of killing a baby, but when it came right down to it, if it was his child or Potter, he chose Draco.

With that in mind, he'd worked tirelessly for weeks searching for the one that he knew would possess the whereabouts of James Potter: his best friend and fellow blood traitor, Sirius Black. For obvious reasons Lucius kept his investigations quiet from Narcissa, who for some reason still cared about the turncoat. Nor had he told Severus, whose sickening obsession with Potter's wife was disconcerting, to say the least. No one, in fact, had been made privy to his quest, not even Lord Voldemort himself.

Today his relentless toil had paid off. There in an unassuming folder at the Ministry of Magic was the break he'd been looking for, a form signed by Sirius Black himself. Lucius lifted the parchment out of its place, savoring the moment.

_Date: 23 July 1980_

_Client: S. Black_

_Reason for service: malfunctioning floo_

There was no cause to believe Black had changed his residence even though the Potters had done so numerous times. If the address on this form was correct, he'd have no trouble locating and capturing the prick, and subsequently delivering him as a prize to Lord Voldemort, raising his own status substantially. He shook his head, grinning. Who knew a simple request for floo service would be documented and filed at the Ministry for future reference?

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Lucius showed up at the door, wand in hand but hidden in the folds of his cloak. He fully expected to blast Black the second he opened the door…only he didn't open the door. A short, pudgy, rat-faced man stood there instead.

Taken aback slightly, Malfoy quickly regained his composure. "I'm looking for Sirius Black."

"He's not here right now," answered the other.

"But he does live here?"

"Yes. He'll be back later, I was just—" The man glanced down at a sandwich in his hand and hurriedly hid it behind his back, stuffing it into his pocket.

"And you are?" asked Lucius.

"Peter Pettigrew," said Peter, becoming nervous. This blond man looked familiar. Where had he seen him before? In the newspaper from time to time, and…Hogwarts! He was older, he was dating Sirius' cousin! "Aren't you Lucius Malfoy? Sirius hates you!"

"Happy Halloween," smirked Lucius, sending a _stupefy_ that knocked Pettigrew against the doorjamb. Bending over, he dragged Peter outside, shut the door, took hold of the smaller man, and Disapparated to Lord Voldemort's castle. Perhaps he wasn't Black, but he was one of the despised Marauders, and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Chances were very good he'd know where to find the Potters, and with a bit of persuasion he'd be begging to tell.


	70. Chapter 70Peter's Persuasion

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy

(Author's note: For anyone who may have wondered how Severus got into the common room in the last chapter, he could easily have asked Slughorn for the password. Also, he didn't actually hit Julius with the switch, he only swung it to intimidate him.)

**October 30, 1980**

"My lord, I have a gift for you!" Lucius, who'd humbled himself in the obligatory fashion, could scarcely stay on his knees, so excited was he with his offering.

From his throne, Voldemort looked curiously down his nose at his follower. "What might that be, Lucius?"

"One of Potter's friends. I have him bound outside."

The very air seemed to take on a life of its own. A gust of wind swirled around Lucius' face in a semblance of a caress. Voldemort got up and…laughed, a high pitched, drawn-out cackle that echoed around the room.

"Bring him in."

Lucius dashed out to where he'd left Pettigrew directly outside the castle, bound with invisible ropes on hands and feet, his mouth gagged with Lucius' handkerchief—an afterthought when the rat man awoke and began pleading. Quite annoying. He levitated Peter through the main chamber into the meeting room and dropped him unceremoniously on the hard stone floor, then yanked the cloth from his mouth. Grimacing at the drool, he glanced about for a place to toss the now-worthless rag; finding none, he flashed his wand and it disintegrated.

Peter lay on his side, trussed like a hog. When he found his mouth free of the handkerchief, he immediately howled, "Oh, please, let me go! I didn't do anything, pl—"

"Shut. Up," Lucius uttered, bending over close to his ear. The wand pointed in Peter's face was a great motivation to obey.

Lord Voldemort sauntered over and circled the prone man, his eyes dancing like scarlet stars in his pallid face. "Name!" he commanded.

"P-P-Peter Pettigrew," he squeaked.

_Pettigrew_! Oh, this just got better and better! Why hadn't Lucius mentioned the name? "Member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

Hesitating for a second too long, eyes wild with fright, Peter replied, "What's that?"

A single nod from Voldemort, and Lucius shot Pettigrew with a very painful, yet not lethal, spell that made him cry out. The dark lord continued circling him like a vulture as he repeated, "Member of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I—I don't know what you mean," Peter groaned, struggling against the invisible ropes cutting into his wrists.

This time Lucius didn't wait for the master's signal. He cast a powerful hex that made Pettigrew grow rigid as he screamed from the burning ache all through his body. When at last the screams died down into hoarse choking rasps, he finally lifted his wand.

Leaning down again, Lucius said to the sniveling Pettigrew, "That pain is negligible in comparison to the Cruciatus. Tell the master the truth, or soon you'll find out how badly it's possible to hurt."

"I—I am telling the truth," Pettigrew whimpered, his beady eyes shifting around for an avenue of escape.

When Lucius aimed his wand again, the dark lord waved him away. In a hissed whisper he taunted, "Peter, do you think I—the greatest wizard of all time—am a simpering fool?"

"Who are you?"

Lucius and Voldemort looked at one another in disbelieving astonishment, then both burst out laughing. _Who are you?_ Why didn't he ask 'What color is the sky?'

"How refreshing, a sense of humor," remarked Voldemort to the bewildered captive. "I am Lord Voldemort. Perhaps you're more familiar with the coward's versions, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who."

"Y-You-Know-Who?" echoed Peter in a distinctly rat-like squeak. He'd begun to tremble violently.

"Answer my question. Are you a member of Dumbledore's silly defiant group?"

"No."

Shrugging as if to say 'I gave you a chance', Voldemort cast a _crucio_ that picked him up momentarily off the floor and dropped him again, thrashing and shrieking. He watched the torture with great delight, lifting his wand only to keep the captive alive.

"We already know the reality of the situation, Peter. What does it gain you to lie to me? Nothing but pain. Because I am merciful, I'll give you one more chance." His wand leveled at Peter's head. "Tell me the truth."

"I am! I am a member!" Peter screeched, terrified of being _crucio_'d again.

"There, that was easy," cooed Voldemort. "Now I have another question. Where are James Potter and his spawn?"

"I don't know!"

Voldemort threw a curse that dragged Pettigrew across the floor and slammed him into a stone wall. The next instant, the bonds fell from his limbs, he was raised upward and pinioned to the wall, spread eagle. "You only make it harder on yourself."

A sharp gasp from across the room cut the air. Bellatrix stormed into the room with angry staccato clicks of her high heels. "What am I missing? Master, you're torturing a prisoner without me?" She sounded deeply offended.

"You weren't here, Bellatrix," Voldemort answered smoothly.

Large tears formed in the corners of the woman's eyes. "You could have called me." She actually began to sniffle.

"Get a life, Bella," Lucius interjected, unwisely it seemed.

Her piteous countenance changed in a heartbeat to ferocious, and her wand materialized in her hand. Nearly shaking with fury, she approached him, wand at ready, and demanded, "Why are _you_ here when the master didn't even summon _me_?"

Calmly ignoring her threatening posture, Lucius curled his lip at her. "I'm the one who captured the runt, _Bella_. I've been working for weeks to prove my allegiance by finding a friend of Potter, and here he is." He conveniently neglected to mention he'd been after her dear cousin. She might take it in her crazy head to look for Sirius herself, thereby diminishing _his_ contribution. "Now haul your ill-clad little rump out of the way so we can continue."

"This outfit wasn't cheap, Malfoy!"

"Really? I'd think it must be for _you_ to wear it."

"Must you two squabble like children?" the dark lord queried, not anticipating a response. Honestly, if he weren't presently occupied with a matter of grave importance, he'd seriously consider spanking the brats. And not gently. "Lucius, you've shown your loyalty, you've proven I can count on you to get things done. Bellatrix, your unparalleled devotion has never been in question. Now stop quarreling or I'll hex you both."

The two glared at each other for several seconds, then Bella lowered her wand. They turned their attention to Pettigrew, who was watching the scene with interest as much as fear. When he saw the three of them appraising him, a wet stain began to grow on the front of his trousers.

"Lovely," Lucius murmured, rolling his eyes.

"That's the kind of terror our lord inspires," Bella crowed, breaking into a hysterical laugh.

Voldemort's thin lips smirked and he said to Bella, "Would you like to interrogate our friend Peter? He doesn't seem to respond well to us, perhaps your female wiles can convince him."

"My greatest pleasure, my lord!" Again she raised her wand, only to get a confused expression. "What do we want to know?"

Sighing heavily, Lucius drawled, "Where is the Potter brat?"

"I don't know, I swear!" Peter screamed from the wall, not sure if the question was directed at him or merely a prompt to the nutty, garishly dressed woman. "Nobody knows!"

He screamed all the louder when Bella's curse struck him.

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"Hey, Pete!" Sirius came into his flat looking around for his friend. _Probably in the kitchen._

He wandered into the kitchen, where there was no sign of the man—wait, there was a rat in the sink crawling over a mound of dirty dishes. Sirius thought how he really ought to do something about that mess.

"There you are. What are you doing in the sink—washing the dishes?" Sirius laughed at his own cleverness. The rat merely squeaked back at him.

Picking up the rodent by the tail, he examined it closely, then screwed up his face and pitched it across the room, squealing, "Oh, my God, you're a rat!"

He whipped out his wand and shot a series of hexes at it, but the creature was too fast. It escaped into a hole in the baseboard. Sirius shuddered. "I've got _rats_! Good company for Wormtail, I guess…where the heck is he? He was supposed to wait for me."

Oh, well, he probably went home. They'd hang out another time. Now would be a good time to take a nap.

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**October 31, 1980**

Who had shoved cotton in his mouth? Severus woke up bleary-eyed and smacking his dry lips. It seemed every bit of liquid had been siphoned out of his mouth and dumped into his gut, which was roiling with nausea. Last night had been great, he'd never realized how freeing it could be to be drunk…nor had he realized how miserable he'd feel this morning. And where the hell was he?

His eyes shot open wide as he sat bolt upright looking wildly round the room. He noticed he was naked when he saw his robes draped over a chair next to the bed. Immediately he made a break for them and, to his immense relief, found his wand in its customary pocket. What had gotten into him last night? Not only had he got bloody stinking pissed like his father had done so often, he'd gone home with a complete stranger! What if he'd said something to her, something of a 'dark' nature? What if he'd divulged secrets—and certainly she'd have seen his Dark Mark!

"You're awake!" A pert woman of perhaps nineteen sashayed in from what he assumed must be the living area. Her short blond hair was spiked up like darts all over her head; she wore a baby doll shirt over shorts.

Severus grunted an acknowledgement as he yanked on his clothes. He'd have greeted her properly if he could remember her name.

The woman walked right up to him and smiled coyly. "You don't talk much, but you're quite an animal when you get going. I was hoping for a repeat performance."

"I don't—" Severus lifted his eyes to her brown orbs and frowned, bemused. "I thought you—didn't you have green eyes last night?"

She laughed. "Yes, I suppose I did. I like to charm them so they change color every half hour or so—brown, green, blue, hazel, even amber and purple. Freaks people out."

"No doubt." Now fully clothed, he felt surprisingly more at ease. "Thank you for a lovely time." He was pretty sure it had been lovely, it was _sex_, after all. And she wasn't ugly. He only vaguely recalled bits of the night here and there, which he found worrisome.

"Who's Glenna?"

Severus stopped cold, no longer at ease. "Why?"

"You were mumbling her name while we did it. Kind of a turn off, only you're lucky you were good enough for me to wanna keep going. Is she your wife or girlfriend?"

"No. I have to go. Do you know what time it is?"

"Typical man, screw and leave!" She pushed him in the chest and flounced out. "It's past noon, creep!"

_Shit_! He was supposed to pick up Jacinta at noon! There wasn't time to be meandering through this girl's mind to see what she'd heard or what she knew, leaving him only one solution. Following her into the other room, he tapped her on the shoulder.

"What?" She turned around to his wand in her face.

"_Obliviate_." Hurriedly lowering her to the couch, he sprang for the door and closed it softly behind him. She'd come around in a few moments completely unaware she'd ever met him and, unfortunately for her, completely unaware of anything that had transpired the previous night.

He rushed away from the flat. Evidently there existed wards on the whole building to prevent Apparation. Once outside the building, he Apparated over to Glenna's house, barely having time to clean his teeth with a cleansing spell. It did nothing to alleviate the dryness.

Jack answered the door and gave Severus a withering glower. "If it's too much trouble to remember to pick up Jacinta on time, we'd be happy if you didn't bother at all."

"Shove it, Mulciber," he muttered. He stepped past the other man into the foyer.

"Are you drunk?" exclaimed Jack, more than shocked. Snape had never indulged when one of the guys had got hold of a bottle of liquor in school.

"No, I'm not drunk!"

"Then why do you smell like alcohol? Not to mention smoke—and cheap whores! I'm not sending my daughter with you in your condition."

"She's _my_ daughter, and yes you are!" Snape hissed, itching to draw his wand.

"'Fraid not," uttered Jack. With one powerful fist he flattened Severus out on the floor, then bent down over him. "I won't endanger my little girl by letting her drunken bastard so-called father drag her off to pubs and strip joints."

If Jack hadn't stepped on his arm to prevent him accessing his wand, Severus would have blasted him into dog kibble. Instead he had to make do with twisting his body to clutch onto Jack's ankle and pulled hard, upsetting Mulciber's balance enough to free his arm. In the same instant they drew their wands; the next instant both wands were flying out of their hands right into Glenna's grasp.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, glaring at them both.

"He won't let me take—"

"He's drunk, I'm not—"

"—Jacinta. I'm not standing—"

"—sending her with him!"

"—for his bullshit!"

She looked to her husband for clarification. "Smell him, Glenna, he's soused! And he stinks like a cheap brothel."

"You'd know, I expect," Severus drawled at Mulciber, as he walked over to Glenna for his wand, holding out his hand palm up.

She aimed her own wand at him and stowed the others behind her back. "You do stink," she concurred. "If you can't even take the time to wash your slutty filth off, you're not taking Jacinta."

"Damn it, Glenna, you can't do that! I'm supposed to be at the Malfoys' Halloween party, they expect me to bring her." Already he could sense this was a losing battle. Once Glenna made up her mind, she rarely changed it.

"I'll take her to the party," said Glenna. "They invited us, but I thought you'd have Jacinta at your house. You can play with her at the Malfoys', but that's all. Then I'll bring her home."

It was the best he could hope for, so Severus nodded. "Give me my wand. I'll go home and clean up, then meet you there in half an hour."

Glenna first passed Jack's wand to him, then gave Severus his wand. "I'll see you in a little bit."

Severus didn't answer. He stomped out and Disapparated to Spinner's End, every fiber of his body tense with anger. It wasn't that he didn't understand her concern—he did. If he were in her place, he might feel the same. It was _Mulciber_. How dare he call Jacinta his own daughter! So what if he raised her, was good to her, and she loved him…this line of thought wasn't helping to maintain his ire. He stormed into the bathroom to shower, grumbling to himself all the way.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

When Snape arrived to the party, he was unpleasantly surprised to find it more of a circus than a small get-together of a few families as he'd been led to believe. No less than twenty pureblood families and their offspring of all ages—most notably young children—mingled in the ballroom to which Sisidy had led him. Off to the side he noted a pair of reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ interviewing a couple whose squalling child had other ideas.

"Good thing I wore _this_," he muttered to himself, rubbing his hand down the fine, soft fabric of the robes given to him by Abraxas. "Merlin, is that a _pony_?"

Sure enough, on the far side of the ballroom, a man in riding clothes was giving children pony rides. With all of these people and reporters to boot, he counted himself lucky he _hadn't_ brought Jacinta, as it would undoubtedly encourage speculation as to why he was with Glenna's child, and a host of questions would follow, potentially deadly questions.

Over the din of blaring music in the cake walk corner, chattering parents, and intermittent howls and crying, Severus heard his name called. He looked across the distance at Lucius, who motioned him over. Draco, wearing tiny robes that mimicked Lucius' expensive robes, was perched on his father's arm looking frightened of the commotion, in contrast to Lucius, who looked so proud he could burst. Lucius placed a gentle hand behind his son's blond head and kissed his cheek, then murmured something Snape couldn't hear.

"Severus, glad you could make it! Where's Jacinta?"

"Glenna's bringing her," answered Snape, preferring not to go into the whole sordid tale. "And a good thing with all these people around."

"True, I hadn't thought of that," Lucius admitted. "Narcissa planned this event without my input, I had no idea it would turn out like this."

"Hello, Draco," said Severus, stroking the silken cheek of the baby. "Having a good time?"

In answer, Draco smiled a toothless grin at his godfather, then let loose a raspberry. Then, thinking how clever and fun it was, he giggled and continued doing it. Lucius smiled indulgently while Severus scowled.

"Don't encourage him to be rude to me, Lucius."

"He's five months old, he doesn't even know what it means," Malfoy responded. When the next one sprayed spittle into his own face, he decided perhaps Severus had a point. "Alright, son, that's enough."

Just like that, Draco stopped, his drool running down his chin.

Severus stared in admiring amazement. "How did you do that? Jacinta never listens to me, and she's way older."

"Excellent parenting skills," gloated the other, who was every bit as astounded as Snape was. He didn't gloat for long; Draco shrieked in horror at a clown passing by and lurched forward, wrapping his miniature arms around Lucius' head.

"Da!" he screamed in an ear splitting wail. His tiny hands gripped on to his father's hair for dear life.

Peeling his son off his face, Lucius hugged him to his chest as he tried to flip his hair back into place. "I hate—no, I _loathe_—this party. If it goes for one minute past the designated end time, I'm liable to start shooting killing curses," Lucius griped.

Out of habit, Severus glanced about to make sure no one had overheard the threat, impotent as it was. "I see Nott and his kid over there. I guess I should go say hello and let you get back to your host duties."

"Do you see Narcissa? I've been carrying Draco for an hour, it's her turn to deal with his neuroses, which are inflamed by her illustrious party planning." As his head swiveled about, he grumbled inwardly that she was probably hiding out somewhere in the mansion. Suddenly his eyes lit up, he grunted a curt farewell, and made a beeline for his wife.

He'd scarcely unloaded the cherished bundle onto Narcissa, turned around, and there was Bella. He simultaneously gritted his teeth and swore. "What are you doing here?"

"Narcissa invited me. I _am_ Draco's auntie," she smirked. "Besides, I have a message for you." The utter joy in her features told him who it was from.

Instantly perking up, Lucius led the way out of the ballroom and into an unoccupied room down the hall. "What message?"

Bella strolled leisurely across the room, swaying her hips, and sat on the edge of the sofa. She crossed her legs, making her short skirt ride dangerously high. "Well, after you left yesterday we continued to question the rat-man. We couldn't get anything sensible out of him, so the dark lord finally grew weary of it and used Legilimency. Get this: that worthless toad is an animagus! A rat!" She cackled, and Lucius couldn't hold back a grin at the unlikelihood of that moron having the ability to become an animagus. "His friends call him Wormtail, can you believe it? And as for Potter, he really doesn't know where he is, no one does except Dumbledore."

This was unwelcome news. Would all of Lucius' time, trouble, and effort be meaningless to the dark lord now that the captive didn't have the required information?

"So that's it? Did you kill him?"

"No." She said it as if she regretted the decision. "The master says we can still use him. He's in the Order, maybe he can get Dumbledore to talk. Or spy on him as a rat."

"So…you let him go?" _Please say no!_ That would be the most idiotic thing he could imagine at this moment in time. The rat would run right to Dumbledore and squeal!

"Of course not! The dark lord has determined that to insure his loyalty, he must become one of us, but he wants Pettigrew to beg to be allowed to join." She smiled evilly. "I get to work on that. Meanwhile, we're to keep quiet about him, even to our fellow Death Eaters. If he's to be a spy, the fewer who know, the better."

Lucius nodded along with her. That made perfect sense. "I haven't spoken a word."

"Good. Well, I'll go see my nephew, then be off. I have work to do." Smiling and humming a catchy tune Lucius couldn't place, she got up and went on by him.

It appeared this Pettigrew was turning out to be a boon after all. Which meant, of course, that the master would confer the honor upon _him_, and his rank in the group would definitely be at or near the top. Lucius grinned as he walked out, humming the same tune as Bellatrix.

"Shouldn't you be at your party, son?" asked Abraxas, walking toward him from the opposite direction with a troubled expression.

"I'm going. I had a…meeting."

"With Bellatrix?" Obviously he'd seen her leaving first. "You wouldn't happen to be hiding more secrets like Mateo, would you?"

The revelation that not only did a vampire exist in the family line, he was in the parlor as they spoke, had shaken Abraxas to the core. He'd listened to Lucius' detailed story from start to finish, but not until he'd confirmed the existence of a bastard son with the portrait of Silvanus could he totally accept it. Lucius hadn't always been scrupulously honest in the past.

Abraxas had gone down to meet Mateo, and was rather pleasantly surprised to find him an affable young man…well, not _young_, as Lucius had teasingly pointed out, far older than Abraxas and therefore permitted to give orders. Abraxas had smirkingly replied that while Mateo was indeed an older Malfoy, he wasn't in the line of heirs, and therefore had no authority over him. Mateo had merely rolled his eyes at the whole debate.

"No, Father, nothing like that. This has to do with my extracurricular activities," Lucius answered, using the code word for Death Eater activities.

Enough said there. Abraxas neither wanted to know, nor did Lucius care to tell him anything. He'd prefer to forget his son was involved in such a heinous group, if only he could. "Go on back to the party. Narcissa needs relief from carrying Draco."

"But she's only had him for ten minutes," protested the young man. "Would you mind taking him for a while? I still have to pacify the reporters with an interview."

A slow smile spread over Abraxas' face. He'd assumed Lucius would hog the child the entire time to show what a great father he was—and to be fair, he really was a loving father. "You know you don't need to ask. My grandson will always be my highest priority." With an extra spring in his step, he went off to find Narcissa.


	71. Chapter 71

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-One

(_**Author's Note**_: Sorry for the delay, folks. Too many family and health issues. To the person who nominated this story for Best General story in The Quibbler Awards—thank you! I encourage all of my readers to visit the site, to nominate stories you like, and please do VOTE! The link is: quibbler (dot) this-paradise (dot) com

Also, if you like Draco stories, '_The First Born Child_' by _L.A.H.H_. is a good read. It strays from the beaten path, in that Draco has an older sister who is imprisoned by Lucius, but is discovered and sent to Hogwarts after Lucius is sent to Azkaban for the prophecy scandal. Draco is in his sixth year.)

**November 1, 1980**

Lord Voldemort leaned back on his throne. A wave of his hand created a matching footstool, allowing him to kick back in relative comfort. It felt good to be king of his castle, despite the fact that neither was he a king, nor was it anything but castle rubble. Little matter. He was the one and only dark lord, who had scores of supporters as well as his inner group of Death Eaters. Could anyone else say that?

A whimper on the far wall gnawed at his brain. Damn that Pettigrew, always sniveling about pain or discomfort or hunger. Really, did he think this was a hotel? He'd only hung on the wall for two days, surely he'd survive. And if not, no big loss—except his access to Dumbledore and the Order, which might prove useful.

Voldemort had had to silence the whining rat man and throw up an illusion wall to hide him when earlier in the day Severus had come by unexpectedly with a glimmer of good news: he'd been granted permission to visit Hogwarts on a regular basis to see his brother and sister. The idea made Voldemort snicker. From what little interaction or affection between the siblings that he'd read in Snape's memories, Snape was evidently using their relationship as a ploy against Dumbledore to gain admittance and, as he'd explained, an opportunity to snoop and question. Very resourceful of him, Voldemort had to admit. He only hoped it would bring forth fruit.

He glanced over at the doorway. Bellatrix would be back soon from her trip to her mother's and—most likely—her husband's home. She never mentioned whether she saw Rodolphus, and the dark lord didn't ask. He honestly didn't care. If she wanted to romp with another man, it didn't bother him in the least, for he knew without a doubt where her absolute loyalties lay.

Too bad he couldn't say the same for Lucius. Yes, he was loyal, he was useful, he was an asset. But he loved his wife…and now that squalling brat of a son as well. He was divided like so many of the Death Eaters. Pity someone couldn't come up with a potion to ensure one single allegiance! Well, he had to accept that other people weren't as strong as himself, weren't able to dismiss trivialities like 'love' and 'friendship', which only served to weaken a man.

The distinctive click of spiked heels drew his attention to the entrance where Bella was scurrying in carrying a shopping bag from a store in Horizont Alley. "Master, I'm back!"

She carelessly tossed the bag into the corner and came forward to bow before her lord and kiss his garment. Inhaling deeply, she savored the scent of him in her nostrils. If only she could stay here at his side forever! She didn't realize she was hugging his legs until he wiggled them in an attempt to free himself from her grip.

"I've summoned Lucius," he said, sitting up straight. In truth, he'd summoned him only seconds before he spoke, but if she thought the blond might burst in at any second, she was more likely to back off. He wasn't in the mood right now.

Bella frowned slightly. "What do we need him for?"

"Wormtail," he answered, sneering over the name, "is ready, is he not?"

As much as she'd like to say no, she'd been very thorough in her torture. After the first hour the rat man was sobbing hysterically like a schoolgirl. Halfway through the day he was singing the praises of the dark lord and begging for the chance to serve You-Know-Who; he'd even promised to bring information as often as he could get it. She'd then tortured him for pure enjoyment…and of course to make sure he didn't decide to change his mind. Yes, definitely for that. She nodded to agree with herself.

"He's ready, my lord. But why does Malfoy have to be here?"

"Peter was his gift to me. He ought to be present when I mark him," answered Voldemort. He pointed across the room. "Why don't you test Wormtail some more, make sure he's truly on our side before Lucius arrives."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Lucius Apparated from the castle back to the mansion in a glum mood. He ought to be happy, the master was satisfied with his service and his gift; why then did he feel so morose? Pettigrew had received the Dark Mark, howling like a banshee well after the pain must have subsided, and Lord Voldemort had sent him back home with open threats regarding his behavior and warnings that Death Eaters would be keeping tabs on him. But what if Pettigrew ran to the Ministry and tattled? Would they believe him? Would he have the _guts_?

Here Lucius allowed a small smile. No, he was too cowardly to defy the dark lord. He knew there were many Death Eaters who'd welcome the chance to mutilate and murder him if he breathed a word. Besides, from what Bella said, the rat man had come to accept that Lord Voldemort and his supporters were going to win this war and that it would behoove him to switch sides while he could. Maybe he wasn't a complete moron after all.

His mood buoyed somewhat, he turned the door knob. Scarcely had he opened the door before he heard his wife calling his name.

"Lucius, there you are! Did you forget we were going to a Quidditch match?"

Lucius regarded his wife with a hint of amusement. She never ceased to amaze and enthrall him. At the moment she looked spectacular in her black leggings and form-fitting yellow blouse, a tribute to her choice of teams to win, the Wimbourne Wasps. In her arms she cradled Draco, also decked out in Wasp colors in the form of a miniature Quidditch uniform. The baby held out his tiny arms to his father, and Lucius whisked him up as he kissed Narcissa.

"No, love, I didn't forget. I had a meeting." There was no need to elaborate. "Shall we?"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

In their skybox offering the absolute best views, the Malfoy adults watched in irritated disappointment as the Puddlemere United team trounced the Wimbourne Wasps. Draco, the only one entirely unconcerned with winners and losers, stared in fascination at the men on brooms zooming by.

"Ma! Da!" he squealed excitedly, bouncing on his rump and stretching his arms upward as if trying to touch them.

"Your daddy used to play Quidditch," Narcissa bragged to her son, who was sitting on her lap reclining back against her between bursts of enthusiasm.

"At Hogwarts," Lucius added dryly. "Hardly world class."

"Don't listen to him, Draco, he was very good. And a _seeker_. Mama loved watching daddy play." She wrinkled her nose playfully at her husband as she petted Draco's wispy blond hair down. "Mama still loves watching daddy, only he plays different games now."

"Narcissa!" Lucius gasped, gawking at her. "He's our _child_, you don't talk about our intimate relations with him."

"Our—Lucius, not all of us think of sex twenty-four hours a day!"

Lucius' hands shot out to cover his son's ears, making Narcissa laugh out loud. "I only think about it sixteen to eighteen hours a day, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm asleep the rest of the time."

"When did you become such a prude? Ordinarily you can't wait to discuss sex," she observed, pulling his hands off the squirming baby's ears.

"For your information, I was brought up to keep certain topics away from children," he huffed. "I thought you were, too."

"He's a baby, Lucius. He hasn't a clue what we're saying."

"He's very intelligent," her husband retorted, looking down his fine nose at her. "Anyway, what games were you referring to?"

Narcissa grinned slyly at him, her blue eyes dancing. She leaned in and winked. "I really was talking about our play time."

"You're incorrigible!" he responded, though he notably scooted a bit closer and put an arm around her waist. "But so beautiful."

"And alluring?" she chuckled.

"Oh, so very alluring," he purred in her ear. "Since it appears our team has been hopelessly pummeled, why don't we go home where I can continue to expound on the glories of my wife?"

Narcissa cocked her head and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "What about Draco? Aren't you afraid we'll scar him for life?"

"Father will look after him." Lucius nibbled her earlobe, then moved on to her neck. "I'm thinking I'd like to take a ride on my old Quidditch broom; maybe my lovely bride would accompany me."

"I'd be delighted," she answered, grinning like a teenager. "I'll dig out your old Quidditch uniform." She stood up and handed Draco to his father. "Come on, don't dawdle." In the twinkling of an eye she'd sashayed out of their private box and started to skip down the stairs.

"Don't forget _your_ old school uniform!" he called behind her, hurrying to catch up. He'd never had the chance to help her out of the enticing outfit, since she refused to permit him her favors until they were out of school and wed. He'd always wondered what it would be like…

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"As per your instructions, I told the dark lord I'd be coming to visit my brother and sister," Snape said in a monotone as he hunched against the door frame. He just wanted to deliver his message, get his marching orders, and go. Spending time in Dumbledore's condemnatory presence was torture of a whole new sort.

"Was he pleased with the news?"

Severus paused. This was a question he hadn't anticipated. Was the dark lord _pleased_? Well, Voldemort hadn't been killing or tormenting anyone, which always served to please him in a fashion; on the other hand, he hadn't angrily subjected Snape to any torture signaling his _displeasure_, so it was a hard call. Slowly he answered, "I believe he was."

"Good. Now you're free to come here at almost any time," said Dumbledore, looking quite content with himself.

"It would appear suspicious if I'm here all the time," Severus replied snarkily. "And I haven't got anything to report anyway." Under his breath he muttered, "Master."

Surprising the young man with his acute hearing, Dumbledore remarked, "I'll thank you not to call me that, Severus."

Slightly taken aback to have been heard, Snape retorted, "That's what you are, isn't it?"

"I am no one's master," said the old man calmly.

Severus felt a sneer tugging at the corner of his lip. Yes, of course the meddling wizard was too self-righteous to put himself on a par with Voldemort. At least the dark lord acknowledged his desire to command those under him, to treat them as the underlings they were. Dumbledore preferred manipulation over threats, though obviously he wasn't above blackmail…do it his way, or the consequences could be dire. Severus had already found that out when he begged the man to help Lily. He held no illusions that Dumbledore would hesitate to turn him in to the authorities if he stepped too far out of the prescribed boundaries.

"My mistake," he mumbled. While dreading to address the topic pressing on the forefront of his brain, it needed to be done. "If I'm to be coming here, the mas—" He caught himself, changing instead to, "—the dark lord will expect me to bring back essential details."

Dumbledore smiled serenely again. "He already knows of the prophecy, the Order of the Phoenix, and some of our members, thanks to you. I should think he'd be satisfied with that for now."

Severus stiffened, then his body began to quake with suppressed fury. _How dare he lay everything at my feet!_ "He's not so lame as you think, Dumbledore. He knew of the Order before I ever joined!"

"Indeed," was the old man's response.

For a brief moment, Severus could swear that twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes intensified. _Is he baiting me?_

Then Dumbledore just sat there, alternately gazing at Snape and poking around the bowl of candies on his desk, until Severus—while outwardly calm—became a bundle of nerves. At last, head down as he intently studied a malformed chocolate kiss, Dumbledore asked, "Why do you serve him, Severus?"

Vaguely confused, Severus shrugged, yanked up his sleeve, and showed the Dark Mark emblazoned on his forearm. "Serve or die."

"No, I meant the true reason you joined up with his nefarious group. I don't detect regret at your association with him."

_Who are you to decide what I regret? And why should I regret it anyway? I've never killed anyone, I haven't done anything so evil…except the prophecy._ "You wouldn't understand."

"Why is that? I like to think I'm fairly astute." He picked up a lemon drop, seemed to reconsider, and put it back in favor of a bit of licorice.

"You weren't when I was a student at Hogwarts," Severus accused, growing animated as the memories flooded back. "Or maybe you saw only what you wanted to see while you enabled scum like the Marauders to bully at will, to attempt murder without consequence! No!" he shouted when Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak. "The dark lord may be harsh and cruel, but he respects my abilities. The Death Eaters respect and accept me, something I never found here, so don't go all sanctimonious on me!" He flicked a lank curtain of hair out of his face to stare down the other man.

"I do apologize for my inattention during your formative years, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "I had no idea they had affected you so profoundly. But to align yourself with a maniacal supremacist…"

"I told you that you wouldn't understand." He shifted from one foot to the other. _Can I leave already?_

"I do respect your abilities, Severus. When I told Philana you were an excellent potions master, I meant it."

"Yet you look down on my practice of magic that you consider 'dark'," Snape challenged, his eyes never wavering from the half-moon glasses.

"You're capable of so much better—"

"Why is it so bad? It's just magic! It's not up to the 'moral police' to determine if it's good or bad simply because they don't like the whole idea of breaking out of the box," Severus snapped, unable to shut out the image of the hated Potter and his despised friend Black, both of whom took it upon themselves to condemn Snape for their prejudice against 'Dark Magic'.

They were getting nowhere. Dumbledore could argue, but to what end—alienating Severus further than he had up to this point in time? If he hoped to eventually bring the young man over to his side for real rather than as a grudging task, it was probably for the best to keep his mouth shut. Besides, when all was said and done, Severus still had to work for Voldemort; he had to be competent in the Dark Arts, and making him feel guilty for it wasn't the optimal method of getting the youth to trust him.

"Perhaps you should go now. I'll see you soon, no doubt." Dumbledore didn't even look up from his desk as Severus backed through the door, then spun around and dashed down the stairs.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was nearly daylight when Mateo and Tonia arrived home, safe and sound in the underground mansion. They hadn't expected to see Yadiro seated in the main room with several _sangristas_, all of them looking gravely concerned.

Mateo approached to embrace his friend, then kiss his hand in a show of respect, followed by Tonia who mimicked his actions. "Diro, what's going on?"

"While you were gone, Serapio Montelongo made an incursion into our territory," answered Buitrago. He motioned them to sit at the table, and moved over a little to allow them to wedge in.

Solemn faced, Mateo took his place on the bench beside Yadiro. This was terrible news! The uneasy treaty with Montelongo had stood for half a century, and now he was breeching it. Why would he do that? His cult, bordering Buitrago's on the east, was much smaller, his influence less pervasive; he couldn't hope to overpower Yadiro's cult. "It doesn't make sense. What does he stand to gain?"

"That is what we've been discussing," said Buitrago. "I sent a group of messengers demanding he explain himself, but he refuses to do so."

"What exactly did Serapio do?" asked Tonia.

Abashed, Mateo squeezed her hand. It hadn't even occurred to him to ask what the infraction was because regardless of the answer, it couldn't be tolerated. If Yadiro was worried, there was cause to worry.

"Three of his _sangristas_ moved into Gallur—it's a small town far to the east, near our border with him. Because it's so close to the border, we've had no real presence there for decades, so they must have assumed we'd never even notice." Yadiro shook his head as if wondering where they found the gall for such a stunt.

"But did he approve it?" pressed Tonia.

"If he didn't know, he found out when we contacted him, and he appears unconcerned," Yadiro explained. "He had the opportunity to deal with it, to remove them himself from our territory, but he didn't. That leaves it to us to remove them."

"Except that might be what he wants," said Esteban, who typically sat quietly in their meetings. "He may be trying to start something."

Mateo's brows lowered. "You think he plans to ambush us when we go to expel the intruders?"

Esteban shrugged. "Serapio is hard to figure out. He keeps to himself, he stays out of sight, and until now he played by the rules. If he intends to start a feud, he must know he can't win."

"Not without reinforcements," added Yadiro bitterly. "We need to discover if he's been making alliances with other cults before we take any action. Tomorrow night I'll send out three groups to the main cults in Portugal, France, and to the southern coast, see what they've heard. Until then, this discussion is pointless."

He stood up, bowed stiffly to those at the table, and stalked off, his anger evident in every step. The rest looked around at each other, then drifted off to their rooms or to pass time in a parlor or game room.

Mateo and Tonia, left alone, sat in silent shock at first, then Tonia said, "Why is it so important if Serapio's _sangristas_ move into Gallur? Our cult doesn't live there, it's practically in his own territory…"

"We still feed there occasionally," answered Mateo distractedly. What a pain in the ass to come home to! "And if we let them take one town, another will follow, then another. Pretty soon every cult on the continent will think it's open season on Buitrago territory."

"Oh." Pause. "Will we have to fight?"

"I hope not…I really hope not." Mateo murmured. The notion of killing still didn't set well with him, and the idea of an all-out vampire war appalled him. "But we'll do what we have to do to survive."

He rose and took her hand as he led the way out of the room into the corridor. From habit he stopped in front of his own door, and was briefly startled when she pulled him further down the hall. Grinning, he remembered they were married now, they'd be sharing a room—obviously _her_ room. As they went inside and closed the door, neither one noticed the door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar.

From inside, a _sangrista_ observed the couple attentively; his dark eyes widened with recognition and he broke into a leering smile. _Well, well, Tonia, long time no see! Still up to your old ways, are you? I have sorely missed you!_


	72. Chapter 72

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Two

"Severus, might I have a word with you?" Abraxas, who'd apparently been waiting for the young man to appear out of the fireplace, got up out of the leather armchair and snapped his fingers. Dobby materialized beside him.

"A word about what, sir?" asked Severus, his stomach lurching. No preliminaries, right to the point, which boded ill. If he'd dared, he'd have politely declined the man's request, reasoning that he preferred not to be scolded about whatever it may be. He didn't dare. Then a horrifying idea entered his mind—had something terrible occurred? He lowered Jacinta to the floor to stop her tiny yet powerful legs from thrashing wildly and kicking him; already he had a substantial bruise on his ribs.

Abraxas addressed the elf at his feet. "Watch Jacinta while I speak with Severus. See that no harm comes to her."

"Yes, Master Malfoy," answered Dobby, bowing low. He sized up the little girl gawking at him with a delighted smile on her face. She was roughly as tall as he was, and seemed friendly enough. "Miss Jacinta wants to play with Dobby?"

"Eff!" she squealed, racing at him, arms outstretched. In a sudden panic he backed up across the floor with the child toddling behind, chasing him down.

While waiting for the elder Malfoy to state his business, Severus fidgeted inwardly, though he remained stock still, his face impassive.

Turning his attention to Severus, Abraxas said, "Glenna spoke to me at the Halloween party."

In the exact same instant his fear drained, he was filled with a new dread. He lamented, _Oh, here we go. Now it hits the fan._

The older man went on, unaware of Severus' internal conflict. "She said you showed up at her house half drunk and smelling of a brothel." His accusing grey eyes pinned Severus to the spot.

"I wasn't drunk," Snape argued a bit too loudly. "I…I _had_ got drunk the night before, and…"

"I thought you didn't drink."

"I _don't_—I mean, I didn't and I don't plan to anymore, it was only one time." Why should he have to defend himself to Mr. Malfoy? They weren't even related!

Abraxas made a motion for him to sit, and he automatically sat, gazing apprehensively up at the other. The man may not be his father, but all things considered in the years they'd known each other, Severus felt as close to him as if he were a surrogate. A wave of relief crashed over him when Abraxas returned to the seat opposite him, lowering himself with a sigh.

"I don't think I need to lecture you on the perils of imbibing too freely, do I, Severus?"

"No, sir," Snape mumbled into his chest. He didn't need a reprimand to alert him to the precarious position he'd put himself in that night; he could have betrayed himself as a Death Eater or as Dumbledore's lackey, or he might have easily betrayed his best friend Lucius. He was acutely aware that for his lack of common sense he might have ended up in Azkaban or dead. "I might have endangered myself or others. It was extremely foolish and it won't be repeated."

"I'm glad to hear it, though I have to wonder if you're saying it to placate me or because you believe it."

"I sincerely believe it, Mr. Malfoy. Too many horrendous things could have occurred because of being drunk, and I'm lucky they didn't."

"True, very true. Now for the other part." Malfoy looked away, flushing a warm pink into his cheeks. It had been bad enough to talk to Lucius about sex when he was a boy; to have to scold Severus—a grown man—about prostitutes made him want to crawl into a hole. Why did young people nowadays have to think about sex constantly? When _he'd_ been a youth, he hadn't considered performing the act with anyone except his wife-to-be, and no one had needed to remind him that unseemly conduct was both prohibited and downright nasty. He'd been a gentleman until his wedding night, as was proper. Even Lucius, for all his wayward leanings, had restrained himself until he'd wed, though Narcissa played a large hand in that, no doubt.

"Sir? You said there's another part," Severus prompted. Why was Mr. Malfoy blushing?

"Severus, you already have a child out of wedlock," he began, wavering in his eye contact. "If you're aiming for a disease, prostitutes will likely get you what you're asking for."

"What? I've never been with a prostitute!"

"A tramp, then. Do you deny being with one of those?" When Snape didn't answer he went on, "Do you want another child to worry about, one you can't take care of? Because carrying on indiscriminately is liable to make that happen."

Severus felt a rush of blood to his face. Mr. Malfoy knew about—whatever her name was! Or at the very least Glenna had told him that Severus was screwing around and he had presumed. And now he was lecturing him on safe practices! "It was only one time, and I was drunk," he said as defensively as he could muster.

"Loads of babies are conceived when their parents are drunk," countered Abraxas. "You need to act responsibly for your own sake and for the sake of the girl."

Tempted as he was to tell the other man to mind his own business, Severus merely nodded. He realized Mr. Malfoy had better things to do than to take the time out of his schedule to instruct him on the perils of whoring around, and it was dreadfully apparent that Mr. Malfoy gained nothing but discomfiture and disgust from the conversation. Quite simply, he was doing it solely for Severus' benefit…because he cared.

There was a long, uneasy pause, then Abraxas said, "That was all I had to say. This isn't the first time I've rebuked you for your…lascivious behavior, but I hope it will be the last. I imagine you think I'm a meddling prig, but it's the way I was brought up."

"No, sir, I don't," answered Severus, shaking his head. He felt on the verge of apologizing for letting the man down—again—when a high pitched whimper from the far side of the room reached their ears.

Thinking it was Jacinta, both men leaped up and bolted across the space, then stopped dead. Dobby lay face down on the hard floor with Jacinta astride his back, hugging and petting the piteous creature with open palmed slaps. One petite hand was latched onto Dobby's floppy ear, holding it like a horse's rein and tugging mightily as she giggled and babbled to herself.

Embarrassed, Severus reached down to lift the girl off the poor elf. She resisted his move with a lusty scream and hard pull on Dobby's ear that made the elf shriek. "I'm sorry," Severus mumbled.

With an amused smile, Abraxas shrugged. "Children love to play with house elves. No harm done. Dobby, go tell Lucius his friend is here to see him."

Gratefully the elf Apparated away. Abraxas nodded to Severus and spun about to go back to his study.

"Mr. Malfoy." He waited for the man to pause and turn around. "I appreciate your concern. I don't take your advice lightly."

Abraxas smiled again, making him look so much like Lucius it astonished Snape. "And I don't give it lightly, son. Take care of yourself."

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Remus wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sinkful of dirty dishes in his friend's kitchen. He lifted a plate and dropped it with a crash. "Gross, Sirius! Your dishes are molding!"

"Huh! Really?" Sirius ambled over and bent down to take a peek. Sure enough, a spattering of black dots ending in hairy green spots spread across the dinnerware greeted him. "I was gonna wash them, I've just been busy."

"Like I haven't heard _that_ before," grumbled Remus. He pointed his wand; the water turned on, dishsoap squirted onto the rag, and the dishcloth began scrubbing the sullied items. "Remind me not to eat at your flat."

"He doesn't have anything to eat anyway," Peter interjected as he closed the refrigerator. Immediately he headed for the cabinets to rifle through boxes of Earl Grey and Rice-a-Roni. "Where'd you get the San Francisco treat?"

"A friend visited the States some time ago and brought it back," Sirius explained. "I only eat it when I'm desperate."

Peter grunted as he slammed the cabinet door and leaned back against the counter unconsciously rubbing his left forearm. The Mark didn't hurt, it had ceased throbbing a few days after he accepted it, yet in his mind it felt fresh as ever. "When's the next Order meeting?"

"I haven't heard," said Remus. "Ever since James and Lily went deeper into hiding, nobody tells me anything."

"Quit your whining," Sirius muttered. "It's to keep them safe."

"Safe from us? How come we can't know where they are?" Remus insisted.

Sirius glanced sidelong at Lupin, eyeing him in a way that could be interpreted as suspiciously. "You seem awfully interested all of a sudden."

"I've always been interested, they're my friends!" Lupin fumed, picking up on the unfounded caution. "I swear, Sirius, you're the most irritating little—"

"We're all friends here," Peter announced. "We ought to trust each other, right?"

His friends glared at each other, then nodded grudgingly.

"Dumbledore said James might come to the next meeting," Sirius offered. "We can visit with him then."

A sudden hard pounding on the front door made Peter bound away from the counter with an expression of terror. Remus looked at him and shook his head as Sirius went to answer the door.

"You've been really jumpy these last few weeks, Pete," Remus observed. "All this war tension must be getting to you."

"I'm okay," squeaked Peter.

Sirius came walking back into the kitchen smirking. "Guess what? Longbottom just came by and said there's a meeting in two days. Dumbledore's considering bringing the Potters himself."

Neither man noticed the nervous gleam in Pettigrew's beady eyes.

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Lucius had left work early, not that anyone would notice. It was Saturday, he shouldn't have even had to attend a bloody Board meeting, so if he departed rather than hover around his office poring over a stack of boring papers, that was his prerogative. He deliberately flung the parchments onto his desk and left them scattered there as he flounced out.

Because of a new security measure that included anti-Apparation spells on Diagon Alley—due primarily to increasing Death Eater attacks—Lucius planned to Apparate into a secluded place in the Muggle world near the Leaky Cauldron. From there he could enter Diagon Alley and slip unobtrusively into Knockturn Alley to Borgin and Burkes. Thinking of any number of new items he might find, he rubbed his hands with glee. He hoped there would be new poisons to add to his collection.

He Apparated on a side street, rounded the corner without looking, and ran smack into a hefty man lumbering by, causing Lucius to bounce backward into a brick wall. Before he could protest his rude treatment at the hands of the burly fellow, the man snarled at him.

"Watch out, freak!"

Regaining his footing, Lucius smoothed his robes as he drew himself up straight. Raising an eyebrow, he replied, "What did you call me?"

"I said you're a freak! Long haired, good-for-nothing hippie dressed for a costume party!" The man shook a fat fist at him.

Were it not for a good number of witnesses milling about, some of them witches and wizards, Lucius would have drawn his wand from his cane. He considered beaning the whale of a man with the cane itself, though he feared the wood might bury itself in the blubber, never to be seen again.

"I would suggest, Muggle, that you apologize," he drawled dangerously.

"Vernon! There you are!" A pin thin woman came scurrying up laden down with a rotund baby whining in her arms. "This city is impossible to navigate with all these ridiculous side streets and alleys. I nearly got lost." She seemed to just then notice Lucius, and pursed her lips prissily. "Stop blabbering with that bum and come on, we're late!"

"Bum?" Lucius repeated, aghast. Was this a nightmare? How dare so many of these vile people accost him with their heinously offensive slurs! If only he had one of those poisons now, he'd gladly use one on the scarecrow lady! "I'll have you know—"

"Petunia, I'm trying to—"

Petunia snatched her husband's chubby hand and was forcibly dragging him away. Vernon twisted his neck toward Lucius and snapped, "Get a job!"

As quickly as that it was over. They'd disappeared in the crowd and were gone. Reeling from the abhorrent contact with a pack of Muggles, Muggles who had the audacity to look down on a _Malfoy_—to _insult_ him—made his head spin. He felt so violated, so…dirty. For a brief moment he thought he might be ill. No longer in the mood for poison shopping, he slipped back into the alley and disappeared. He needed to lie down, or maybe to kill someone…

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Tonia found Yadiro sitting amid the rubble that had been his mansion so long ago. It was a quiet place he came to when he wanted to think…or brood, as the case may be. Right now the matter of Montelongo weighed heavily on his mind. The envoys he'd sent to neighboring cults had come back empty-handed. No one had anything to offer regarding Serapio's unusual behavior—at least they had nothing they were _willing_ to offer. If they knew anything, they weren't talking.

The whole situation bothered him immensely; he and Montelongo, while not friends by any stretch of the imagination, had forged an understanding that included respecting each other's borders. Neither wished for unrest, certainly not for battle. Tonia peeped at him from a distance, unwilling to disturb him yet intent on finding out the magnitude of the situation they faced.

"Hello, Tonia," he said without even looking up at her, startling her. She'd been quiet, her scent was downwind, how did he do that? He raised his hand and gestured for her to come out of the shadow thrown by the half-chimney remains. "You've been very quiet since you got back. How was your honeymoon?"

She stepped out into the open and glided over to him. "It was wonderful, thank you." In her distracted state she wasn't interested in making small talk, not when a catastrophe loomed on the horizon. "Yadiro, who did you send to speak with Serapio?"

"Why?"

"Do they know him?" she pressed, appearing almost anxious.

"No, they'd never met him before." Buitrago sat up straight, his fathomless dark eyes piercing hers. "What are you getting at?"

Unable to hold his gaze, she looked down at the grass, black in the faint light of the moon. Biting her lip, she steeled herself. "I think maybe they didn't see him at all."

"Are you suggesting they lied to me, Tonia?"

"No, not at all." There was a pause that seemed to extend unduly long. Why should Yadiro believe _her_ over _sangristas_ he'd known far longer? How could she make him see without spilling her mind? _Tell him, Tonia_, a voice in her head intoned, a voice that had been harassing her ever since they returned from their honeymoon to discover the strife. She shoved it aside. "It's just that Serapio isn't the type to deliberately cause trouble between cults, is he?"

"Up to now, no, he hasn't been," Buitrago conceded. "Perhaps he's provoking me because he's tired of being the low man on the totem pole, so to speak. Perhaps he thinks I'll roll over and give in without a fight."

Before she could catch herself, Tonia uttered vehemently, "He's not like that!" Gasping, eyes popping, she slapped a hand over her mouth—too late.

"And you would know this _how_?" Yadiro asked, his countenance taking on a knowing smirk. He didn't need her answer to deduce the truth. "Why didn't you tell me before this that you know Serapio?"

On the brink of denying his allegation, she thought better of it. Lying to her leader would only make matters worse. She heaved a defeated sigh and in a near whisper she said, "Because I don't want Mateo to know. Please don't tell him!"

"Why not? If you're a friend of Montelongo, you could be a great help."

"I'm not. I mean, I _was_, but we didn't exactly part on good terms," she explained ruefully, then implored once more, "Don't tell Mateo. He wouldn't understand."

Yadiro gave a noncommittal grunt. Obviously there was more to this than Tonia cared to share, but she didn't really need to. He'd been around long enough to grasp the dynamics of man/woman relationships, and so had Mateo, though the poor boy did tend to be a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.

Silence reigned while Yadiro mulled over this new development. Tonia knew Serapio, they'd parted with Tonia loath to have her husband even hear of the relationship, which may as well have been a huge red flag announcing a romantic involvement. If Serapio had ended it, if he'd hurt Tonia, she'd be denigrating him, only she wasn't. She was defending him, which probably meant _she_ had been the one to end it and felt guilty over doing so.

At last Buitrago murmured to the apprehensive Tonia, "I won't say anything if that's what you want, but I must ask you to consider a favor." She glanced over at him quizzically. "I know Serapio, but if I were to fly into his territory under these conditions, it could be construed as an affront to his sovereignty. If you go, you can try to find out what's going on."

"I highly doubt he wants to see me," she answered softly.

"Would he turn you away?"

Tonia hesitated. Evidently Yadiro suspected her relationship with Serapio was more than platonic, yet he wouldn't come right out with it. He assumed their bond would gain her entry into Serapio's circle…it had been a very long time ago, she had no idea how she'd be received—or rejected. However, this was her cult now, Yadiro was her leader, and he'd been good to her. She owed him not only the truth, but anything in her power to help.

Tonia lowered herself delicately onto a pile of bricks opposite Buitrago, tears beginning to form in her large, sorrowful eyes. "I broke his heart, Yadiro. We were together for a year or so, then he confessed his love for me and I got scared. I broke it off with him. After that it was too awkward, I couldn't very well stay in his cult, so I left. That's how I ended up on the southern coast before coming here. How could I go back now?"

"That does complicate matters," agreed Yadiro. An affair was one thing; spurned love was another.

"I meant what I said. Serapio can be selfish at times, but I can't envision him encouraging or allowing his _sangristas_ to encroach on your territory. There has to be a reason he hasn't responded."

Buitrago stretched out a hand to pat her shoulder. "It's alright, we'll figure out something. Would you fetch Mateo for me? We need to consider our options."

Tonia sprang up and wiped her eyes. How lucky she was to have come to this cult where her leader was so understanding and where she'd found the love of her life! She hurried back to the underground mansion, located Mateo, and sent him out to Yadiro with a hard kiss that made his head a little woozy with pleasure.

She watched him mount the stairs and disappear into the night, then turned around and stopped in her tracks with a horrified intake of breath. Before her stood a medium sized vampire with shaggy, dark brown hair that fell past his collar. His features, though regular and plain, held an ominous air at the moment.

"What's wrong, Tonia? You don't look very happy to see me."


	73. Chapter 73

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Three

"What are you doing here?" Tonia hissed, instinctively backing up.

The _sangrista_ moved forward, his smile silently mocking her. "I never thought I'd see you again after you ran away. I've been watching you, staying out of sight, waiting for an opportunity to get you alone. Now here you are." He reached out to her and she slapped his hand away viciously.

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"Temper, temper," he taunted.

Tonia's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here? Does Yadiro know?"

"Of course he does. He agreed to let me join his cult only a few days before you showed up with your _husband_." The last word came out in a laugh that turned into a snort. "If I'd known you belonged to this cult, I'd have joined a long time ago."

"If Mateo knew about you, he'd kill you," she growled through gritted teeth.

"Maybe so, but if Mateo knew about _you_, he'd leave you," replied the other with an infuriating smirk. "No man wants someone else's whore. It appears to be in both our best interests to keep quiet, doesn't it?"

Trembling with ire, Tonia stared at him, fists clenched. "I hate you, Ruben! Why don't you just leave me alone!"

"What fun would that be?" This was turning out so much more enjoyable than he'd imagined. "Besides, Mateo seems to like me. I think he might be my new best friend."

Her fist swung out, catching Ruben on the jaw. He stumbled back, shocked and angered. In a flash he lurched forward and grabbed her wrist, twisting it up and away from her body as his other hand clamped around her throat. For a moment he seemed poised to bite her.

With his lips pressed against her ear he said, "You may be a _sangrista_ now, but I'm still stronger than you are. Don't push me too far, bitch."

Gasping at the tight hold on her throat, she tried to pry his fingers off with her free hand, to no avail. "Let—me—go."

He released her suddenly and she slid partway down the wall before catching herself. She stood up, one hand rubbing her neck, her attitude even now defiant. "I ought to tell Yadiro what you are—what you did!"

Ruben extended his arms out to the sides as if to say he had nothing to hide. "Go ahead. But don't think for a minute that he won't repeat every word to _Mateo_. Yes, we're right back at that sticky point, aren't we?"

"What do you want?"

A slow snarl of a smile spread over Ruben's face. "I want your love like it used to be."

"You never had my love!" she snapped back. "You stole me from my family when I was seventeen and used your mind control on me for four years. That's not love!"

"It felt like it to me," he purred, halfway between reminiscing and goading her. "Your skin was so soft, you were so willing, and the way you pleasured me made me feel incredible."

"You raped me for four years, you bastard!" she shrieked, forgetting there might be others within earshot.

"Rape is such an ugly word," he replied smoothly. "I prefer to say I taught you to be a woman. And you can't deny you enjoyed it."

"I was under your power," Tonia seethed, barely able to hold her voice down. "I did what you wanted because of that, and you have the audacity to call me a whore!"

Ruben shook his head, wagging a finger at her and clucking his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. I probably should have realized that once I made you a _sangrista_ you wouldn't respond to mind control anymore. Nevertheless, after you ran off do you think I didn't hear tales of your exploits? You're hardly a nun, my love."

"Don't call me that! Don't call me anything—don't even speak to me!" On shaky legs she headed for the stairway to flee to Mateo, to find refuge and safety in his arms.

"I live here now, Tonia. Get used to it." His eyes followed her out, then he turned on his heel and walked down the hallway as he called, "Veronica! I want you!"

Tonia barely made it up into the forest before she dropped to her knees and burst into tears of rage and helplessness and repressed fear. She was a _sangrista_, she was a formidable fighter; it shamed her to cry like a baby over something that had happened a century ago. It shamed her to be afraid of this vampire who, while more physically powerful, didn't dare hurt her, not while Mateo and Yadiro lived. The rational adult part of her told her not to panic, yet the vulnerable teenaged girl part quaked at the resurgence of her hated enslaver, not only because of the memories he evoked but because of the threat to the happiness she'd finally found. It wasn't fair!

She had to pull herself together before anyone witnessed her unseemly hysterics. Getting to her feet, she wiped her eyes and nose with a handkerchief, then stuffed the wet rag back into her pocket. She was strong, she'd show Ruben that he hadn't defeated her. Yet inside, she felt so abysmally lost it was all she could do not to collapse again in a weepy fit.

She needed to get away. Perhaps she'd take Yadiro's advice and fly over to Serapio's territory for a quick look around. Only…that meant Mateo would find out where she was going, he'd _know_! _No, he won't_, her inner voice assured her. _Yadiro will protect your confidentiality, he promised._

Mateo and Yadiro were right where she expected to find them on the rubble heap. Without wasting time—during which she might lose her nerve—she spoke up. "Yadiro, I've changed my mind. I'll go to Montelongo's as you asked."

Surprised, Mateo glanced over at his friend. "You asked Tonia to go? Why not me?"

"Women are less threatening," said Yadiro evasively, yet truthfully. A group of men flying in would cause alarm, a group of women merely curiosity.

"I won't let her go alone," Mateo stated.

"I'll be sending Iselda and two or three other females along with her," Yadiro answered. As he made up the plan in his mind, he found he actually thought it a good idea: send those who are fighters, who can defend themselves while appearing harmless. "They can protect each other if necessary."

Not entirely pleased with the whole proposal, Mateo got up to approach Tonia. Placing one hand gently on each cheek, he raised her face up to him. "How long will you be gone?"

"Only a few days—long enough to talk to some of the cult members." Whether Serapio would consent to speak to her remained a mystery, but there were plenty of others she knew. She leaned in to place her head on his chest. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he murmured, hugging her to him.

Feeling like a fifth wheel and afraid they might start groping each other, Yadiro cleared his throat. "Mateo, I want you to go find Iselda and Consuelo. Tonia, you notify Perla and Marisol. Bring them back here so we can discuss our strategy. I'd like you to leave tonight, if possible."

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"You've got to be joking, Dumbledore," said Severus, gaping at the aged wizard. "You want me to inform the dark lord that there will be a meeting of the Order tonight?"

"More of an informal gathering of some of the members, but yes, that is correct."

"Why would you do that? You have to realize he'll send Death Eaters to attack," Snape protested. No way in hell was Dumbledore going to pin this massacre on _him_. Or was it a setup for Severus himself—Death Eaters show up to a nonexistent meeting, and who would suffer for the incorrect intelligence? Oh, _hell_ no! "If you think I'm going to play your little game, you—"

"Severus!" Dumbledore said firmly, silencing the young man. "You said Voldemort expects you to bring information, did you not?"

"Yes."

"This most definitely qualifies as important information. _I_ will worry about the rest of it, all you have to do is tell Voldemort you overheard me in the hallway with Sirius Black. Can you do that?" He cocked his head, waiting for an answer. His blue eyes were no longer twinkling.

Snape lowered his head and nodded once. "Yes, sir."

"Then go. He'll want to hear it."

Dumbledore stood up to usher the young man from the room. If all went well, this demonstration should cause Lord Voldemort to trust Severus even more. Subsequently, Severus might take a baby step toward trusting his old Headmaster; if Dumbledore ever hoped to make Snape a reliable spy against Voldemort, he needed to earn his loyalty. In the meantime, he'd need to make sure Black and his compatriots didn't do anything foolish to get someone hurt. The Gryffindor cronies had a bad habit of acting without thinking.

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Lord Voldemort couldn't determine whether to smile or grimace, though in truth both actions were remarkably similar. Observing Snape as he knelt motionless at his feet, he decided a smile was in order. The young Death Eater had just apprised him of an Order of the Phoenix meeting to be held at a ramshackle tavern this evening. What delighted him most was the knowledge that Wormtail had given him the very same news only yesterday, meaning the rat man had lived up to his promise. He'd even gone Snape one better—he'd stated that the _Potters_ were expected to be in attendance at this pedestrian function!

"Rise, Severus." It wouldn't do to assign Snape to this battle, not if the redheaded mudblood might be there. He couldn't take the risk of the fool boy hesitating. "You've done well. Go on your way; when I have news of our victory, I will notify you."

"Yes, my lord." Regardless, Severus hung back. Dumbledore was anticipating a Death Eater assault, he may be planning to slaughter the Death Eaters—or capture and imprison them, interrogate them for information. While Severus held no affection for any of them except Lucius, he dreaded such a possibility nonetheless as the blame would certainly fall squarely on his own thin shoulders.

"What is it, Severus?"

"Dumbledore will be there, master. He's not a simpleton like his followers, he won't be easy to defeat."

"I understand that, and I will order my Death Eaters accordingly. Don't worry, Severus, our abilities far exceed theirs." His gruesome smirk morphed into a face-splitting smile that would have terrified any child within a block.

Severus bowed low and left. The master was right, why should he be troubled? Lord Voldemort knew what he was getting into and seemed confident in how to handle it. Everything would work out fine. Dumbledore would likely not be hurt, he was too powerful and skillful; if the damnable Marauders were killed—as one could only hope—no one would miss them. As long as no Death Eaters were struck down, thus angering the dark lord, it was a win/win proposition all the way around.

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The Hog's Head had never been a hub of high society; tonight was no different. The few dregs who'd wandered in had been sent packing by Aberforth Dumbledore on the advance advice of his brother Albus, who'd dispatched his own little group of revelers to the tavern.

By the time Albus made his appearance with James Potter, the rest of the Marauders and Frank Longbottom were already halfway through their second beer—or in the case of Sirius, firewhiskey. Needless to say, they were feeling quite boisterous.

"James!" Sirius leaped up, threw his arms around his friend, and crushed him in a bear hug. "Good to see you!"

"Sirius," James croaked. "You're squashing me."

Black dropped him and he was then embraced by the other men, each expressing his delight at seeing him.

"Where's Lily?" asked Remus, glancing past Dumbledore.

"Home with the baby," answered James, plopping down at the table and gulping down Sirius' drink. "It's so good to get away for a while."

"We miss having you around," Sirius admitted, a sentiment echoed by the others.

"Me, too," said James. "This hiding out stinks."

"I wish we could visit," Remus said, dodging a hard gaze from Sirius and responding with his own.

The group continued visiting, enjoying their camaraderie for another hour, laughing and joking, sharing stories. Occasionally Peter snatched anxious glimpses at the door, unnoticed by Dumbledore, who'd been doing the same. Surely Severus had carried the news back to Voldemort according to plan; unless something drastic had occurred, Death Eaters should be showing up any time.

He hadn't much longer to wait. Outside in the cold of the late November night, cloaked figures in masks were popping in all around the building. Even though he was anticipating their arrival, Dumbledore felt a rush of bile at seeing the coordinated entry from front and back doors and a side window, surrounding the men at the table.

No less than a dozen Death Eaters, wands raised, closed in on the Order members. Mulciber, Sr. gestured over at James. "Hand over Potter and we'll let you live," he rasped.

Dumbledore motioned for the rest to be still as he stood up despite the wands aimed at him, his demeanor calm and collected as always. "I think we would prefer not to do so."

For a second Mulciber was stunned. He hadn't expected that, he'd expected…well, fear, panic—hysteria even. Certainly not this! "You're far outnumbered, old man! Maybe you don't care about yourself, but the rest of them are going to die if you don't do as I say."

"Like bloody hell!" Sirius barked, jumping up and going for his wand.

Before he got a chance to use it, before he'd even got it fully out of his pocket, one of the death squad shot a red jet of light his way. Pettigrew dove under the table, the rest spilled onto the floor grabbing their wands as they went, but something wasn't right. The curse hadn't struck Sirius, it had rebounded off an unseen wall between the two camps and ricocheted back into the crowd of Death Eaters, who scattered. None was more surprised than Sirius, who hadn't had time to cast a defensive shield.

Immediately a dozen curses, many of them _avada kedavra_, sailed at the Marauders and company; all of them either bounced back or passed by without harm, to the dismay of the attackers and the astonishment of those under attack.

Seeing the Order members preparing to fight, Dumbledore thundered, "Don't fire back!" His tone was so out of character Sirius nearly dropped his wand, but he obeyed, as did the rest.

Nearly dancing with fury at being somehow thwarted, the Death Eaters swore fiercely in between shooting every hex and charm they could think of to eliminate the invisible boundary separating them from their prey. Repeated killing curses merely sailed past the men on the floor and past Dumbledore, while the rest deflected back causing widespread chaos in the room.

They'd fairly exhausted their supply of countercharms when, summoned by the violent magical activity in the building, aurors began to Apparate around the establishment. They came in firing, catching the squad off guard. Realizing their attempts were futile and they'd soon be outnumbered themselves, the Death Eaters bolted for the exits, knocking aside others in their hurry, dueling with the aurors only as much as necessary to get outside and Disapparate. In a matter of seconds they'd all fled.

The young men got up from the floor looking shaken yet curious. As Peter cautiously poked his head out from under the table, James asked, "What just happened? Why couldn't they kill us?"

Dumbledore smiled blithely and seated himself. "My own brand of shield charm, my boy."

"I've never heard of one surrounding a group of people," Remus countered. "And you didn't even use your wand."

"I don't need a wand, Remus," Dumbledore said sedately. "Although it does drain me to expend so much magic at once. I could really use a drink right now."

The aurors, who'd by now determined the place to be safe and the Death Eaters all gone, came over at hearing his explanation. "Hey, Frank," acknowledged one of them, nodding to Longbottom. To Dumbledore he asked incredulously, "You held off all of them with a _shield charm_?"

"Not an ordinary one, I must admit," said the older wizard. "I've been practicing it for decades, refining it, but it only works in tight quarters and for short periods, so I thank you for arriving when you did."

"I'll second that," Aberforth muttered, shaking his head as he gazed at the damage to his walls and furniture from the hexes. "Next time you wanna destroy a building, use someone else's establishment." He snatched up the empty glasses from the table and stormed off behind the bar.

The same auror persisted in his questioning. "But you can't block _avada kedavra_ with a shield charm. I _heard_ them yelling it."

Dumbledore gave one of his mysterious, sly smiles. "One needn't block a curse if one isn't technically in the line of fire."

Everyone paused in confusion to ponder that tidbit. Not in the line of fire? With twelve Death Eaters cursing their lungs out in an attempt to murder them?

"Disillusion charms, combined with illusion charms, can work extraordinarily well," Dumbledore finally explained, convinced that no one was going to figure this out without help. He pointed to a spot three meters to his left. "_That_ is where the Death Eaters thought we were, hence their killing curses did no harm. I extended the shield charm to that area as well as over us so that the other hexes would bounce back at them, making them believe we were, indeed, seated over there."

"Very clever, Albus," said Frank. "Now if you would only teach all of us to do that, this war would be over in a matter of days."

"I'd be happy to do that, Frank. Do you have thirty years or so to learn how to juggle and focus all that magic at once?"

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"You failed." Two of the most dreaded words in the language. Voldemort raised his wand at the death squad trembling before him.

Mulciber, his voice high with panic, exclaimed, "My lord, Dumbledore used a new kind of magic! Even killing curses were unable to harm them!"

"You cannot block or disable a killing curse!" bellowed the dark lord as he sent a Cruciatus at Mulciber. Dare they now try to deny their ineptitude?! Did they think he didn't know more magic when he was sixteen than they proceeded to stumble over now? He watched impassively as the man rolled screaming over the floor for a full minute, then he lifted the wand. "And did I not tell you to capture Potter, not to kill him? How are we to discover where his brat is located without him to tell us?"

"I tried," panted Mulciber, struggling to his knees then falling back onto the stone floor. "_They_ were the ones," he accused, pointing at the others from his prone position. "They used _avada kedavra_."

Several among the group began to fidget nervously.

"As the leader, it was your job to see that they followed orders," cooed Voldemort as he cast another _crucio_. Every other man in the place winced at the shrieks ringing out loud and long. How easily they might be the one in that position! When the dark lord finally relented, Mulciber was unable to respond through his sobs and labored breathing.

Voldemort's red eyes glowered around the circle of followers, silently picking out his victims in turn. He particularly relished the fearful apprehension of those who had to wait for their due. It tasted oh, so sweet. "You will all be punished for your failure, in good time. But first, Mulciber must learn his lesson…"

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"Mr. Malfoy, I believe we've been over this." Wenner tapped his fingers impatiently on the Governing Board table.

Lucius' grey eyes widened innocently. "Whatever do you mean, Mr. Whiner—Wenner. Forgive me."

Wenner scowled, pulling his heavy brows into one bushy unibrow. "You donated all that money to Hogwarts for use only by purebloods. That proves—"

"And halfbloods," Lucius reminded him with a saccharin smile. "I like to be fair."

"You specifically mandated that the money not be used for Muggleborns," Wenner snapped. "That proves my point."

Feigning cluelessness, Lucius put on his offended-yet-magnanimous face. "I'm sure I don't follow your line of reasoning. Most people would be grateful for a donation that helped so many students. How you can construe my generosity as somehow evil is beyond me."

"You're trying to muddy the water," Wenner muttered.

Lucius turned his palms up, looking around at the remaining governors. "Why am I being persecuted by this man? I believe my request is undeniably sound. In light of these dire circumstances, the elimination of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts makes perfect sense."

The woman beside Wenner lifted a hand for recognition. "What dire circumstances, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Do you not deem it worrisome that our children are being taught to emulate beings only a notch above apes?" Lucius exclaimed. "They're loud, obnoxious, filthy creatures. They don't need to be studied, they need to be—" The word 'eradicated' formed on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. "Pitied. We should pity them."

Unable to hold her silence any longer, Chairperson Lorraine Newcastle interceded before the discussion might turn into a brawl. "Mr. Malfoy, we are not here to speculate on the merits or faults of Muggles. I see no compelling argument to engage in this debate."

"Mrs. Newcastle, I beg to differ. I myself have been accosted by these so-called harmless Muggles on several occasions, once very recently, and I would be remiss in my duty if I didn't try to prevent our children from suffering at their hands." Lucius sighed heavily as if deeply troubled by the memory of this anguish. "I call for a vote."

"Very well," Newcastle agreed. "All in favor of removing Muggle Studies from the curriculum raise your hands."

Lucius' hand shot up. Kidus Chapman, catching the sharp glance of his peer, raised his hand as well.

"Two to ten. Motion denied. Any other business?"

The remainder of the business interested Lucius not at all. His grand idea stricken down, he sulked silently for the rest of the meeting. Some day he'd get them back for their lack of support, for their jeering at his brilliant idea. Some day.


	74. Chapter 74

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Four

(A/N: Don't forget to vote at the Quibbler Awards! quibbler (D O T) this-paradise (D O T) com . This story was nominated in the Best General category. Thanks!)

**December 10, 1980**

_Tonia's back!_ Mateo sensed it a millisecond before he caught her scent and heard her voice in the main chamber. As promised, she'd been gone only seven days, seven of the longest days he could remember since his human wife had left him centuries earlier. He bounded off the bed where he'd been moping to run out to greet her, unconcerned by the untoward noise he made.

To a vampire's keen ears, the sound of softly treading feet was glaringly apparent; Mateo's pounding steps prompted every eye in the room to turn his way, but he didn't care. Making a beeline for Tonia, he snatched her in his arms and kissed her deeply. How beautiful she looked by the light of the torches that flickered off her sumptuous skin, how lovely her brown curls that reflected the flames.

"I'm so glad you're back! I was getting worried."

Tonia kissed him repeatedly and snuggled into his embrace. "I'm back exactly when I said I'd be."

The disturbance had brought Yadiro from his suite in time to witness Iselda and Esteban conducting a similar ritual. Consuelo and Perla had already seated themselves at the long table in preparation for the meeting sure to follow their mission; Marisol had latched onto the neck of one of the young servant men and was feeding hungrily. The newest _sangrista_ to their cult, Ruben, hovered in a shadowy corner dispassionately observing the interactions without taking part. One might think he was trying to blend into the tapestry behind him.

"Welcome back," smiled Yadiro. His dark eyes traveled around the room; with all the young _sangristas_ present, he felt very much like a father speaking to his children. Unconsciously he began to stroke his white-streaked goatee. A single flicking motion of his hand caused everyone to gather round the table, where they sat down and fixed their gaze on the leader.

Ruben took a seat opposite Tonia, flashing her a smirk when Mateo looked away briefly, then he directed his rapt attention to Buitrago. Tonia glowered at him before looking away.

"Tonia, were you able to speak to Serapio?" asked Yadiro.

"No," she said in a tone implying she hadn't truly expected to. "His cousin Rafael refused to let me in."

"Cousin?" queried Mateo incredulously. Vampires very rarely had family members as fellow _sangristas_!

Realizing she'd said perhaps too much, Tonia tried to play it off as something she'd learned only recently. "I heard they were together when a rogue band of _sangristas_ attacked them and gave them the choice of join or die. They joined."

"We journeyed through his territory and spoke with many others in the cult," Marisol interjected. A stain of blood she'd neglected to wipe off her chin dribbled down to splat onto her Victorian blouse. She glanced down at it, shrugged, and went on, "His followers grow concerned. No one has spoken to Serapio in months, and they only see him occasionally from afar when he makes appearances with his top people."

"Is that so?" Yadiro murmured. This was an odd report, if not downright disconcerting. Cult leaders must maintain a face presence with their followers to retain their loyalty, everyone knew that, and a face presence included socializing to keep abreast of news and rivalries and discontent. What reason might Montelongo have for shirking such basic responsibilities?

"Why wouldn't this Rafael let you see Montelongo?" asked Mateo.

Consuelo pursed her lips knowingly. When they'd approached Montelongo's sanctuary and been turned away, she'd been quick to inquire of Tonia how she knew Rafael and why there existed an animosity between them. She'd gotten nothing more than a murky, vague reply. Perhaps Mateo could do better.

With everyone focusing their attention on her, Tonia felt herself shrinking in her chair. An outright lie would be spotted for sure, and she abhorred the notion of lying to her husband anyway. Of all times to have to come out with the truth, why did it have to be in front of an audience? Well, Mateo hadn't asked about Serapio, so he wasn't getting anything about him.

In a small voice she acknowledged, "I belonged to their cult for a while, a long time ago." A nearly inaudible gasp reached her ears, though she couldn't tell from whom. There were shuffling sounds as people leaned forward with interest. She could almost see Mateo's pale blue eyes swell to the size of fists, even though she was busy studying a shallow scratch on the table's surface. She traced the scratch with a sharp fingernail. "Rafael and I didn't get along very well. I guess we still don't."

"How come you never told me?" Mateo seemed to have forgotten they weren't alone. "I didn't know you'd ever been over that way, let alone belonged to that cult."

"It wasn't important," she replied with a desperate look at Yadiro.

Picking up her cue, Yadiro intervened. "Tonia's right, what's important is that something is definitely wrong in that cult. We need to figure out what it is and what to do about it before it negatively impacts on our cult. Already they've encroached on our territory, we can't allow any more infringement. If anyone has suggestions, I'm listening."

Mateo evidently _wasn't_ listening, he was scowling at Tonia in a rather petulant manner. Deafening silence being a less than subtle clue that no one had anything to offer, Buitrago dismissed them with the directive to ponder the situation and come to him if an idea struck.

Tonia made to get up but Mateo gently pulled her back. "Tonia, are you keeping secrets from me?"

"Like what? I don't know every detail of your life either, Mateo," she answered evasively. "Are you saying you don't trust me?"

"No. Forget it," he whispered, almost to himself. "I think I'll go patrol." He kissed her and headed up the stairs without looking back.

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Severus stalked out of the fireplace, glassy eyed, right past his mother. He hardly heard her call out to him; he turned back to see Eileen on the couch looking bemused. She held an open book on her lap.

"Oh. Hi, mum."

"What's the matter? You have a glazed look—is Jacinta alright?"

The young man nodded. He only now got back from returning the child to her mother, what could possibly have occurred in that time? "Yeah, she's fine."

"Severus." The single word spoke a command he couldn't pretend to misunderstand.

It was futile to try to ignore the woman, as she'd hound him until he did as she wanted, and frankly he wasn't in the mood to be harassed. He slouched over and landed heavily on the sofa beside her. "What?"

She closed the book and set it on the coffee table. "Tell me. You'll feel better."

_Highly doubtful._ However, as she'd persist until he broke, he said, "Glenna just told me she's pregnant. The brat is due around mid-August."

Eileen sympathetically took hold of one of his hands; he jerked weakly to free himself but her nails dug into the flesh. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You had to expect it would happen eventually."

"I don't care, mum!" he asserted loudly. "She and Mulciber can have a dozen squalling kids, what do I care?"

"If you didn't care, you wouldn't be upset," Eileen answered patiently, wounded by the hollow expression in her son's eyes.

In an obvious lie, Severus sneered, "I'm not upset."

The woman shook her head muttering, "Why do you have to be so much like your father?"

Severus' face turned sharply toward her. She'd unquestionably caught his attention, though he stoically remained silent. Only his hawk gaze swept over her in search of answers.

"Tobias had the hardest time showing you kids that he loved you, mainly because he never learned to articulate his feelings. You act remarkably like him, Severus, and it's not a good thing."

If she was hoping he'd jump in to protest or prove her wrong, she was disappointed. Her son merely tightened his mouth until a thin line of white—paler than the rest of his skin—bordered his grim lips.

When no reply was forthcoming, Eileen sighed. "You loved Glenna but you never told her, and look what happened: she married Jack and your child is separated from you."

"What's your point, mum?" he gritted out, grinding his teeth.

"The point is that hiding behind a mask to shield your emotions isn't healthy and only makes you miserable."

Severus rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to do? Cry like a little girl? That would be _so_ productive—not to mention manly."

"Smartass," she shot back. "Bottling everything up is the same tactic you took with that Muggleborn—Lily—when you loved her."

"Mum, don't." Severus got up from the couch. "I don't need this." Without further ado he whirled and stomped off to his room, though he shut the door quietly after him. His mother was sick, he didn't want to upset her.

Perching on the edge of his bed, he mulled over what his mother had said. As far as he was concerned, dad had the right idea. Why on Earth would he want to 'articulate his feelings'? Nothing good could come of it, right? People laugh at those who wear their hearts on their sleeves. God knows he'd had enough people laughing at him already to last a lifetime.

A dark voice from a corner of his mind piped up, _You're afraid, that's why you won't try._

"Oh, be quiet," he mumbled aloud.

He most certainly was _not_ afraid. He was _prudent_. There was a gigantic, crevasse-crossing difference between the two! He'd been happy with Glenna; now she was happy with Mulciber. His daughter was better off being raised by Jack than by her father. He'd done the sensible thing and resigned himself to these facts at the same time he'd forcibly trampled any vestiges of romantic emotion into powder and stored it in the furthest recesses of his mind. Mum was wrong, that's all. The only way to survive was to shove it all down and leave it alone. Any rational person could see that.

And where did mum get off dragging Lily into this? When he _loved_ her? They'd been friends in school, that's all. Oh sure, perhaps he'd developed a childish crush on her, but that had ended long ago. When Lily was pregnant and had suggested in the grocery store that they renew their friendship, he'd felt excited _purely_ out of friendship. When she'd come to see him after Potter's parents died, she'd hugged him, reawakening an odd sense of longing for her, one he feared to dwell on. It didn't mean _anything_.

_Then why do you push it from your mind, Snape. You're a coward._

"I am not!" he declared to his pillow.

Now that this remembrance of longing had lodged itself in his skull, it drilled deeper, opening painful gouges in his memory. Lily had hated him, spurned his overtures of reconciliation; she'd treated him abysmally, squashing his tender heart like a filthy bug under her shoe. And yet the moment she'd relented, he'd come running back like a faithful toady.

For the life of him, he couldn't fathom why he felt this unrelenting attraction to Lily. It made absolutely no sense, it followed no logic. Not for the first time, the notion that it seemed extraordinarily like the Imperius Curse crossed his mind, though he knew it couldn't be so, she abhorred the Dark Arts. Why then did he feel a complete inability to break free of her stifling influence?

He'd scoffed at Lucius and at others who'd proposed—nay, insisted—that he must love Lily. No other explanation could suffice for his dogged desire to be near her. But was it possible? Could he honestly fancy someone who'd caused him so much agony over the years? Was that really love? Did he hope for her to leave Potter not only because Potter was scum and was bad for her, but because he secretly wanted her for himself?

No, it was preposterous! He was intelligent enough to sort his own feelings…yet the fluttering in his stomach told him perhaps it was so, perhaps he was destined or damned to love Lily for the rest of his life. And the very idea frightened him more than anything ever had.

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"So, why _did_ you decide to go to Serapio?" Ruben sidled up the corridor behind Tonia, effectively blocking her escape. "Did you miss him? I'll bet he misses that taut body of yours."

Tonia spun around and Ruben took another pace forward, virtually pinning her to the wall. If vampires could pale, she would have. One horrified thought rattled through her brain: _he knows about Serapio._ As if reading her mind, he let out a guttural laugh.

"Cat got your tongue? Your husband seems rather ill-informed of your activities—"

"Shut up!" Tonia hissed as she pushed ineffectually at his chest. "You don't know anything!"

"Don't be so sure, _amor_," he murmured against her cheek in a sickening honey-oozing tone. "I get around just like you."

Brown eyes flashing, she managed to shove him a scant few inches away from her. "I'm nothing like you."

"Believe what you will, Tonia. I'm only saying maybe Mateo would like to know."

"Would like to know _what_?" came the clipped, barely controlled voice of Mateo from the end of the corridor where he'd come to a stunned halt at seeing his wife standing far too close for comfort to Ruben, so close their lips could meet.

The other man backed away from Tonia wearing a congenial smile. He shrugged casually. "We were talking. Nothing important." Without waiting for a response, he turned and hightailed it down the hallway away from the couple.

Frozen to the spot by a tormenting mixture of incredulity, anguish, and unfocused wrath, Mateo merely stood staring at Tonia, his chest heaving with emotion. Filled with her own jumbled feelings of anxiety and anger at Ruben, Tonia stepped lightly over and stopped in front of her husband. When she stretched out a hand to his chest, he recoiled slightly.

"I thought you were going to patrol," she said finally, not knowing what else to say, her mind incapable of formulating anything resembling clever conversation.

_Thought or hoped_, Mateo reflected bitterly. He swallowed the lump of foreboding rising in his throat. "What is going on, Tonia?"

"Nothing." It sounded as unconvincing to her as it did to him.

"So you always stand nose to nose with men when you talk to them? Do you think I didn't notice the looks that passed between you and Ruben in the main chamber?" Mateo moved back even further, repulsion fueling his action. "What did Ruben want to tell me? Are you having an affair with him?"

The last question was so unexpected it hit Tonia like a kick to the gut. An affair with Ruben? She'd rather die! "Don't be an idiot, you're jumping to conclusions."

"Then what is it?" he insisted.

"I used to know Ruben, alright? I hate him! There's nothing between us."

Unconvinced, Mateo seethed, "You seem to have a lot of men you 'used to know' but don't like. Today alone I've learned of two of them. Am I going to be tripping over your 'ex-friends' every time I turn the corner?"

The implication was too much to ignore. "How dare you? I didn't ask for Ruben to come here; I didn't start the trouble with Montelongo's cult! And when exactly would I have had time for an affair? I've been with you all the time except when I wasn't even here!"

In the back of his mind, Mateo realized she had a valid point, yet in his aggravated, jealous state he couldn't quite quell the turmoil raging in his head. "I need to think." Leaving her standing forlornly in the torch-lit corridor, he moved in slow motion down to his old bedroom and swung open the door. Everything remained untouched as if waiting for him to return. "I'll be spending the day here."

Aching to run to him, Tonia simply tilted her chin up and snapped, "Stay wherever you want. I don't need you."

Mateo slammed the door behind him, unable to shut out the wrenching pain those four little words caused. She couldn't mean it, not after everything—their wedding, their vows… she _had_ to need him because he so desperately needed _to be needed_ by her. He stumbled over to the bed and threw himself down, resting his head in his hands. How could it have come to this so soon?

Little did he suspect that Tonia had retreated to her own room to collapse on the bed, sobbing like an abandoned child.

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"You know I hate parties, Narcissa," Lucius pouted for her benefit, hoping to elicit sympathy so they could go home. Nonetheless, he was dressed to the nines, as usual, looking elegant and sophisticated as a Malfoy always must in hunter green dress robes embroidered with gold trim, his sleek hair tied back in a matching green ribbon.

Narcissa glanced over sidelong at him as she walked along clutching the elbow he'd extended for her. My God, he was hot! "Don't you look sassy and sexy," she cooed.

"Probably," he agreed, smirking. "I prefer to think I'm dashing and suave…maybe debonair."

"Oh, you are," Narcissa breathed.

Lucius eyed his wife appreciatively. In her strapless gold silk gown, she looked positively edible. "My darling, no one compares to your beauty."

They entered an enormous atrium at the Ministry of Magic that was decked out in Christmas red and green streamers and glittering balls; a behemoth Christmas tree that scraped the twenty foot ceiling was positioned smack dab in the center of the room. From somewhere on the far side, a strobe light and disco ball scattered a bizarre light pattern around the walls and ceiling and glinted off the scintillating snowflakes falling from above. Dozens of couples wandered about to the accompaniment of _Silent Night_ played by a band of goblins in the balcony.

"Would you like a drink, dear?" asked Lucius. He turned his head, searching for an elf, and found himself looking at Arthur Weasley only meters away staring at him. He was clad in a powder blue polyester leisure suit and rubber boots.

"Hello, Lucius," said Arthur, raising his glass in a toast.

"Narcissa," hissed Lucius, covertly thumping her lightly but frantically on the hip with his fist. "Weasley!"

"Oh, so it is," she observed with a smile. "Not very fashion conscious, is he? I can't say I've ever seen that particular material before. Quite hideous."

Lucius fidgeted uncharacteristically. Why was she so unconcerned? Didn't she understand the calamity to come? "By Merlin, is he stalking me? Every time I turn around, there he is with his redheaded army, and every time there are more of them!"

Narcissa peered past her husband and shrugged. "I don't see any children."

Had the woman gone blind or merely mad? As if the devil spawn had heard him speaking, a troop of Weaslettes led by Molly Weasley came bopping into view dancing to the strains of _Frosty the Snowman_. Bringing up the rear were the toddler twins, who grinned like the Grinch himself while he robbed the Whos. They babbled something to each other, slapped high fives, then twisted their heads toward Lucius, their ominous eyes glowing red. Their chubby little legs carried them in Malfoy's direction.

"Argh!" Lucius shrieked in a strangled tone. "Stop them, stop the evil babies!" He thrust his hands out to hold them back; now one of them had his wand and was chewing on it!

A knife-like pain in the ribs caused Lucius to open his eyes. Narcissa was bent over him ramming him with her pointy elbow, and it _hurt_.

"Honey, wake up. You were having a dream," she said. Satisfied that he was through thrashing and moaning, she lay down.

Lucius blinked several times. Yes, he was in his own room, there were no ludicrous decorations or Weasleys. What a relief! He leaned back, starting to relax as his breathing began to return to normal.

"Not a dream, my love, a nightmare. Remind me to send Draco to Durmstrang so he won't be contaminated by that wretched Weasley clan."

"Durmstrang!" Narcissa exclaimed, sitting up again. "That's an awful place. I won't hear of it."

"Oh, it can't be too bad. My father went there."

"I thought he went to Hogwarts."

Lucius rolled over to face her, smiling languidly. "Technically, he did. As a first year he was sent to Hogwarts, sorted into Slytherin—of course. However, when he came home on Christmas holiday without bruises or scars, my grandfather determined Hogwarts wasn't strict enough. He pulled him out and enrolled him in Durmstrang."

Pressing her lips tightly together, Narcissa shook her head. "I used to think Abraxas was harsh, but your grandfather was a complete ass."

"No argument here," said Lucius. "Durmstrang was probably for the best, though. Lord Voldemort, or should I say Tom Riddle, is only a few years older than Father, so he was at Hogwarts when Father was a young boy. At least the dark lord wasn't able to draw him in. And Father was able to persuade his mother to allow him to spend his seventh year at Hogwarts and graduate there." He snuggled up next to Narcissa, planted a kiss on her collarbone, and looked into her troubled blue eyes. "What is it, love?"

"I still don't want Draco so far away," Narcissa murmured.

"Let's drop it, shall we?" Lucius offered as he laid her down on the bed and draped an arm over her. "We don't even need to think of it anymore." _Until Draco turns eleven_, he smirked to himself. By then he'd surely have Narcissa totally agreeing with his point of view.


	75. Chapter 75Human Relations

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Five (Human Relations)

Sleep should come as naturally for _sangristas_ as for humans, yet Mateo couldn't vouch for that, not today. All day long he'd tossed and turned in an agony of hell as he imagined his beloved wife with Ruben. If he hadn't showed up when he did, what might have happened? Why would she marry him only to take the first opportunity to cheat on him? Was he just being paranoid?

It didn't make sense, none of it made sense. Tonia had been free to do as she pleased right up until a few months ago, so why would she suddenly decide to hurt him more than a stake to the heart? Or had she not meant to hurt him, had only expected some time with Ruben while Mateo was occupied? But what if he was merely building all this up in his mind when in reality it was nothing?

He grimaced. Perhaps Tonia would have tried to explain more fully if he hadn't been in such a hurry to accuse her of infidelity. Getting up off the bed, he straightened the clothes he'd not bothered to take off and peeked out the door into the hallway. It was empty.

In a smooth glide he edged on down to Tonia's room and rapped softly. No answer, which was to be expected with how he'd behaved. He cautiously cracked open the door and looked inside. There was no one there; the bed was made, though rumpled slightly on top as if Tonia had laid there. Quietly he closed the door and turned around.

"Where'd you go?" he said aloud.

"Who?" asked Yadiro, who was coming up the hall and noticed him standing there looking confused and talking to himself.

"Tonia. She's not here."

It was Buitrago's turn to look bemused. "You're a light sleeper. Didn't you wake when she got up?"

Mateo ducked his head to mumble, "We had a fight. I spent the day in my old room."

"Ah." Enough said there. "I'm sure she's around somewhere." He started to walk off.

"Diro, wait. I had an idea on how to find out what's going on at Montelongo's cult."

The other glanced at him sharply with an intensely focused interest. "Yes?"

"It involves my human relative Lucius—if I can convince him to help." Briefly he laid out his plan while they advanced into the main chamber, then he stopped so suddenly that, were it not for his vampire reflexes, Yadiro would have run into him.

"What are you doing?" asked the leader. He saw nothing amiss, only Tonia coming down the stairs. "There's your wife."

"I...I should talk to her," Mateo murmured.

Taking the hint, Yadiro smiled to himself as he spun round to head into the parlor. Mateo approached his wife with the sensation of bugs crawling in his churning stomach. Most unpleasant. He made a mental note to watch his tongue; he'd never been particularly good at making up with _anybody_ as he tended to blurt out what he felt rather than what needed to be said.

"Tonia, I'm sorry," he began earnestly. "I acted like a jealous jerk, but only because I love you and need you." _Please don't be mad. Please don't be cheating on me._ So far, so good.

"You said some nasty, hurtful things," she answered, notably not making any move in his direction.

Tentatively he extended a hand to her. "Tell me I'm wrong and I'll believe you."

"I shouldn't _have_ to tell you!" Tonia snapped, slapping his hand down. "You should trust me!"

"And you should stay away from old lovers!" he shouted back. There was that damnable outburst he feared! So much for delicacy. The way she lurched back from him with a horrified gasp made him feel like the lowest form of worm. He sucked in a tortured breath. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's what you think of me, though, isn't it?" Aside from the expression that clearly said she'd like to rip his eyeballs out of his skull and feed them to a rabid raccoon, she was taking this very well.

"No, I…I just want you to keep your distance from Ruben."

"That's the same thing you said a minute ago!" she shrilled. "You evidently don't trust me, and you certainly are _not_ going to order me around." Whirling about, she stormed back up the stairway, calling over her shoulder, "When you change back into the man I married, let me know!"

"I will!" he replied snarkily after she'd already gone. Well, two could play at that game!

That is, they could if they knew what they were playing and the rules to it. Mateo had never been one to dabble in emotional blackmail or even harmless flirting, he honestly wasn't any good at them and he detested them. The only game he cared about, the one he had to win, was wooing back Tonia. Losing wasn't an option, not now, not when his heart was so deeply invested.

He considered chasing her down but decided against it. Whenever he got angry, he preferred to be left alone to cool off. No doubt Tonia felt the same. When he got back from England, perhaps she'd be more receptive.

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As happened every time Mateo showed up at Malfoy Manor, the house elf shut the door in his face to go get Lucius. If he were the sensitive type, he might be offended by it. Instead he leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, hoping he wouldn't be made to wait too long. He'd spent the day in a hole along the shoreline cliffs in order to arrive here early night; he'd like to head home as soon as possible.

"Well, well, Mateo, you're looking dapper—not bloody and filthy as per usual," drawled Lucius with a smirk.

"You're hilarious, Lucius. You should be a comedian," Mateo answered dryly. "Let me get right to the point: I came to ask a favor—a big favor."

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"I wouldn't go down that way," advised a third year to Julius, indicating the corridor leading to Slytherin House.

"Why not?"

"That sixth year is picking on the younger kids again. I almost ran into him, only he jumped on Quirrell and I got outta there." The boy eased down the wall onto his book and leaned his back against the wall. "When he leaves, we can go on."  
Julius hesitated. He hated being the butt of Barty Crouch's cruel humor, but he hated more having his actions dictated by a bully. Did he want to be a coward? That's what he'd be if he turned and hightailed it. Besides, this was _his_ House, he had every right to go there, Crouch be damned!

Lifting his chin, he marched down the hallway with the third year gaping after him. Sure enough, right around the corner a laughing Barty Crouch had levitated the small, thin Quirrell and had begun to twirl him in circles, the younger boy's screams silenced by a spell. Julius thought fleetingly he should observe the Slytherin code, walk on by, pretend nothing was happening. But what if that had been _him_? Wouldn't he want help?

"Put him down," said Julius, gripping his wand tightly in a white-knuckled fist.

Holding Quirrell aloft with his wand, Crouch looked over curiously at the black haired firstie. Had that brat just ordered him to desist? And why did he look so familiar? "Get lost, firstie."

If only he'd been allowed a wand at home before coming to Hogwarts! Severus had taught him so many spells which he'd not been able to practice, spells that would come in handy about now. Well, he knew the words, he had the intent… "_Stupefy_!"

The jet of light struck Crouch under the arm, knocking the wind from him and causing him to drop Quirrell. The little boy landed with a thud, scrambled to his feet, and bolted away as fast as he could. However, Julius' age and lack of practice contributed to his lack of power; the hex had only momentarily stunned Crouch, who now was out for blood.

"So, the baby wants to play, does he? Let me show you what that spell is supposed to do! _Stupefy_."

Anticipating the attack, Julius threw out _ennervate_ to counter, which turned aside the other hex while turning Barty's cheeks a deep crimson. How in the world did the brat do that? How did he even know how? Whatever the reason, it infuriated and embarrassed the older boy to be dueling with a firstie and–-if not losing—not winning!

With a wicked thrust of his wrist Barty cast a silent _expelliarmus_, sending Julius' wand high into the air. He caught it and proceeded to taunt the fuming child, pointing Julius' own wand at him. "Now what are you gonna do, baby? You gonna cry? Better yet, why don't you laugh? _Rictusempra_."

Julius doubled over, wrapping his arms around his middle and laughing as if he were being tickled mercilessly, which he was. Barty stood back and grinned at his handiwork.

"See what you get for crossing me, first year puke?" Crouch growled. An idea lit his pale face, he aimed the wand once more, and an amber stream of light hit Julius on the top of the head.

Instantly he stopped laughing, probably because rodents don't laugh. Crawling on the floor around Crouch's feet was a sleek black ferret, which seemed intent on trying to bite the snickering lad. Crouch simply lifted his foot and moved aside.

A shrill scream pierced the air and Tina came running up to pluck the ferret off the floor. "Turn him back! You'll get in big trouble!"

"Ravenclaw?" asked Barty with a lazy interest, giving her a smug, superior smile. "What are you doing out this way?"

"Looking for my brother," she spat at him. "Some kids said you were here and Julius was coming this way and you're sadistic so I—"

"Oh, shut up," Crouch ordered. "Go back to your own House."

"I know you did it! I'm telling my brother, you'll be sorry!" Justina slung Julius over her shoulder and he promptly crawled into the sleeve of her robe, dropped out, and scurried around the corner.

"I thought that rodent there was your brother."

"My _other_ brother! He's older than you and he knows loads of spells!"

"Oooh, I'm scared," Barty retorted, feigning fright.

Now that the first year had escaped, he couldn't transform him back to human even if he wanted to. As it stood, there were no witnesses; it was the brat's word against his, and since he'd used the firstie's wand, they couldn't prove Barty had anything to do with it. However, in the event a teacher might happen down the corridor, it would be best if he was nowhere around. He started off toward Slytherin House. He didn't need to be caught here under dubious circumstances, to have Slughorn owling his father, who'd likely warm his bum with the belt for a stunt like this whether he could prove his guilt or not.

"I didn't do anything, he was already like that," said Crouch, casually letting Julius' wand slip to the floor as he walked away.

Panting with nervous excitement and terrified her brother was doomed to remain a ferret forever, she scooped up his book and wand, then dashed after Julius, who fortunately had paused not far up the corridor to examine a dead roach. She wrapped an arm around the animal's gut to hold him still against her and rushed off to find Professor Flitwick.

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Severus received the summons after he'd gone to sleep, waking him with a burning, throbbing ache in his forearm. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, donned his robes and mask, and Disapparated. When he arrived at the castle, he was surprised to see a sizable group of Death Eaters milling about, except for the ones lying on the ground moaning and holding various parts of their anatomy. He looked around for Lord Voldemort, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Snape!"

Good Lord God Almighty, how he despised that voice! He turned slowly to face Bellatrix. "What?"

"The master wants you to heal them." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

"What happened?"

For a moment he felt sure she was contemplating telling him it was none of his business and to keep his substantial nose out of it. Apparently he was mistaken; she was merely contemplating whether he was worthy enough to know, then she sighed dramatically. "We went on a raid on a Muggle train. It should've been simple enough to tip over the cars and slaughter the animals, but _nooo_. A bunch of aurors popped in and ambushed us!" She had the gall to look affronted.

"Oh. Well, I'll get on it." Despite the nagging voice in the back of his mind desiring to ask how many Muggles they'd murdered, he kept his mouth shut. He truly didn't want to know. It might make treating the wounded all the more difficult. Without another word he removed his mask in order to see better, then wandered over to assess the injured men, to determine who needed prompt treatment and those that could wait.

The first man, one he didn't know, had suffered broken bones in the arm socket and surrounding areas; he could wait. Severus recoiled a bit at seeing the next, who lay death-like, blood streaming from a deep cut across his abdomen. It was Nott, but so pale and drawn he scarcely resembled himself. He needed immediate aid. Why the hell couldn't someone have staunched the flow of blood? Surely _someone_ here was capable of that!

Severus knelt down to run his wand over the gash, sealing it. He performed a quick test he'd learned from Mr. Malfoy that disclosed organ ruptures or anomalies, stunned not to find any. But for his arrival, Nott would have bled to death from an easily repaired laceration! It made him want to lash out at the stupidity of the whole crew.

He sent a warming charm around the Death Eater, who in all probability would succumb to shock if he didn't receive blood replenishment soon, which meant Severus would have to send someone to steal the potion from a hospital or potions shop. Being closed for the night, the shop seemed the better bet. He glanced about for someone he trusted enough to get what he required.

"Rodolphus!" he called. The man limped over on an obviously sprained ankle. "Let me see." Snape grimaced at the array of scars on the flesh, souvenirs from the werewolf attack that had nearly cost him his foot. A simple wave of his wand returned the ankle to its former strength.

"Thanks, Snape. I really need to learn healing stuff, I was never too good at it."

_Really?_ "I need you to acquire a potion for me. It's called _bluot souplier_ and if I don't get it soon, Nott will probably die." Severus motioned to the man lying so very still.

"Will do, Snape." He grinned and Disapparated.

From the castle interior came the raucous sound of screams brought forth from torture. Severus surmised they'd captured some Muggles or an auror, neither of which he could do a blasted thing about, so it was best to ignore it. He continued moving among the wounded, curing a concussion, assorted broken bones and severe bruises, and a burn on the side of a face. Travers' chipped tooth required another potion he didn't have, but it was hardly urgent. Tomorrow the man could visit a dentist.

Now that the pained cries had died down outside, the shrieks of agony from the castle seemed all the louder and clearer. He got up and walked over to Rookwood. "Who's in there?"

Rookwood shrugged. "We didn't bring anybody back with us, so whoever it is was already here. Bella said the dark lord's doing the honors himself."

_Not in front of his minions? How unlike the master_, Severus thought, frowning. Generally Voldemort liked to use his torture sessions as training sessions for the audience, to teach them what to expect if they displeased him or to let them exhibit their own savage skills. As he'd prefer not to take part in either type, he'd rather go home and back to bed, he slinked up behind Bella.

"When I'm done, am I permitted to leave?"

A smirk of pure elation lit her face. _Snape_ was asking _her_ permission to leave! "How delightful—the halfblood has finally learned his place! However, I'll have to ask the master."

Before he had time to object or berate the wench for her insult, she'd skipped off into the castle. "Self-possessed bitch," he muttered.

"Talking about my wife?" asked Rodolphus, striding over to hand him a brown vial. "Better not let her hear that. She can get pretty malicious."

_Master of the obvious, are we?_ Snape intoned in his head. He took the potion, went over to Nott, and tipped a few drops into his mouth. After he swallowed, Snape poured a bit more, then more, repeating the exercise until the vial was empty. Minutes ticked by as he waited to see if he'd been too late. At last the young man stirred and sat up groggily. Success!

"Snape!"

Severus flinched. Did Bella deliberately charm her voice to be grating and irritating? He strode over to where she stood imperiously crossing her arms.

"The master says you may go." Lifting her voice so all could hear—and none dared speak over her lest they suffer her wrath in a dueling match—she pronounced, "The dark lord said to go home. He will not be punishing us for this fiasco because he is generous and merciful."

A whoop of joy resounded through the throng, along with diabetes-inducing sweet words as to the kindness and mercy of the dark lord. Then, one by one they disappeared, leaving only Bellatrix, who sauntered back to the castle. Lord Voldemort had promised her the next round of torture.

Pinned to the wall inside once more was Peter Pettigrew, who hung limply there from all the previous torment, too far gone into semi-consciousness to even beg. Bella bowed to the master and aimed her wand.

"Next time you suggest a prime target, you'd better know if aurors are stationed there! _Crucio_."

(A/N: Sorry for the lack of Lucius, I'll make it up in the next chapter. Please read my new humor oneshot—starring Lucius and Severus—entitled _The Hole_. Let me know what you think!)


	76. Chapter 76

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Six

"Lucius, I don't think you've given serious consideration to this plan," Abraxas warned. "It sounds like you could be in a lot of danger."

"Oh, _that's_ never happened before," Lucius returned sarcastically, immediately regretting his tone at the murderous expression in his father's eyes.

"_Don't you dare mock me!_" thundered the patriarch, grimly satisfied to see Lucius automatically straighten up and lose the smug face. "You have a wife and son to think about. What if you were killed?"

"Father, I live with that reality every day. I never know when the dark lord will call, or what might happen."

"Does that mean you should seek out opportunities to endanger your life?" It was obviously rhetorical, for Abraxas continued without demanding a reply. "Frankly, I don't enjoy having my son come home at death's door. What if you were turned into a vampire?"

Lucius struggled to keep his face impassive. A chuckle or even a grin now might be grounds for a black eye in the mood his father was in. "Mateo would not do such a thing, nor would Buitrago or Tonia."

"There are more than three vampires to worry about." Abraxas shook his head and lifted his coffee cup for a sip. His son was an idiot, pure and simple. Oh, he was intelligent for sure, clever, wily…but an idiot. He'd risk everything on a harebrained scheme, and for what? Vampires! No, scratch that. _Vampire territorial wars_. Who in bloody hell cared where the bloodsuckers lived, or if they killed each other off—which might be a blessing, for that matter. Yes, Abraxas liked Mateo, he found him very charming, but he was different—he was family, the rest were not; they had no claim on Malfoy loyalty.

The younger man, who'd sat quietly studying his sire's unreadable countenance, cleared his throat. "Sir, I gave my word. _Malfoys don't make empty promises._ Isn't that one of the maxims you taught me to live by?"

"Don't throw my words back in my face, son," said Abraxas softly.

"Father, I'll be careful. Mr. Buitrago controls his cult. If he tells them to leave me be, they will obey." Why did he feel like a little boy asking permission to visit a friend's house for the weekend? He'd told Mateo he'd Apparate to Spain in a day or two, he couldn't just _not go_. "Mateo is relying on me, and I don't think I'll be gone too long."

As much as Abraxas hated the thought of Lord Voldemort in any capacity, especially attached to his son, he had to ask. "What if that evil bastard wizard summons you? Can you make it to him in a timely fashion?" _So he won't torture you,_ was left unsaid.

"If I'm a little late, I'll make up an excuse," said Lucius. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had to use his silken tongue to lie his way out of trouble, as his father ought to know by now, being the recipient of most of those lies. Anyway, he'd contemplated this very thing more than once since last night. "I doubt he'll call, he's busy with…other preparations." Certainly a unique way to phrase planning the murder of the Potters, which the master wished to see to himself. The Death Eaters who were busy now were the Muggle hunters, the strong-arms, the murderers.

"I wish you wouldn't go," said Abraxas plainly.

"I know, Father. I do appreciate the sentiment." He paused, chewing his lip. This was only the first battle, the _easy_ battle; he had yet to inform Narcissa of what was about to pass. "I trust you'll take good care of my wife and Draco."

"Of course." Another pause, this one more awkward than the last.

Lucius shifted his eyes to follow his father's line of sight to the doorway where Narcissa was holding an immaculately groomed Draco while looking confused and upset. His stomach leapt. "Good morning, honey."

"Where are you going, Lucius?" she breathed. "Did _he_ summon you?"

"No, it's not for the dark lord, it's for Mateo." He extended his hands as an invitation to join him. "I didn't want to bring it up last night when you were so tired—"

"Don't do this to me, Lucius," Narcissa interrupted, walking right up to him and stopping beside his chair. She gazed down at the man with a mixture of apprehension and annoyance. "Tell me what's going on."

Draco leaned over across her arm to welcome his father by yanking a shock of his hair quite hard. Lucius smiled up at him distractedly as he tried to disengage the fist from his locks.

Abraxas got up in more of a hurry than usual, leaving his breakfast nearly untouched. This looked like it may turn into an all-out row, and he'd prefer not to be caught in the middle of it. "I think I'll go to work early, let you kids chat." He kissed Draco's cheek and was rewarded with a messy tongue lick in return. "Lucius, will you be here when I get back?"

"Yes, sir. I won't be leaving until tonight or tomorrow."

"Lucius!" Narcissa snapped more sharply than necessary. "Stop ignoring me!"

"I'm not, dear."

Narcissa, for all her breeding and manners, was so wrapped up in dread she forgot to bid her father-in-law goodbye as he retreated from the room. "I'm waiting for an explanation."

Her husband gripped her around the waist and pulled her and the baby onto his lap where hopefully his cuddling would offset the fact that he'd be walking into a potentially precarious situation. Oh, how he loved them!

"When Mateo came last night, he asked me to go to Spain—only for a short time—to help out with some problems they're having with another cult. I said I would."

"How could you possibly help?" Narcissa exclaimed. At least she hadn't tried to get up, that was a good sign.

"I'm a wizard, love. I can do things they can't." He smiled at her with his trust-me-I-know-what-I'm-doing face. He didn't notice Draco stealthily twisting around and reaching down to snag a handful of his now cold scrambled eggs, most of which he shoved into his mouth. The rest plopped down his chest, staining his clothing, before tumbling to the floor.

"What do they want you to do?" asked Narcissa.

Lucius sighed and drew her into a hard hug, causing Draco to squeal in protest at being smashed when he was attempting another lunge at the yummy eggs. To tell or not to tell, that was the question. Lucius may as well get everything out in the open, let her throw her fit, calm her down and reassure her, then with any luck have a make up session before he left. He did so love their make up sessions…but how to occupy Draco in the meantime?

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He was tired, but he was home—and with an hour or so until daylight, no less. Mateo lumbered down the stairs, as much as a fleet-footed, agile _sangrista_ can lumber, in search of Buitrago. It didn't take much searching, for the leader came strolling in at the sound of Mateo's entry.

"Hello, Mateo. Good to see you back so soon."

Skipping the formalities of kissing the leader's hand—he'd only been gone a few days, after all—he half sat on the edge of the table, grinning. "Lucius agreed to help us. He should be here tonight or tomorrow at the latest."

Yadiro's face broke into a smile, alleviating the looks of worry that had become commonplace there. "I'm glad. I do hope he's capable of what we need."

"He's a very good wizard…I assume," Mateo answered. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't actually seen Lucius perform any magic except flying on a broom, Apparating, and _accio_. No doubt he was at least average as wizards went, probably a cut above. He _was_ a Malfoy! He glanced around as if expecting someone else to be there. "Where's Tonia?"

"On watch duty." Yadiro's countenance lost its happy glow. "Mateo, I don't know what's going on between you, but since you left she's been acting strange and upset. Didn't you even tell her you were going to Britain?"

"Um, no," said Mateo, feeling a hint of something odd…guilt? He didn't care for the incredulous expression aimed at him. "I thought she'd want time alone to think."

"If I had to guess, I'd say she wanted you to talk to her and confirm that you love her."

"But she knows that." Mateo's unwavering pale blue eyes held not a trace of deceit.

Yadiro rolled his own eyes as he shook his head. After three hundred years Mateo still hadn't figured out what a woman needed, though in all fairness he hadn't exactly been a playboy. His experience was quite limited. "Why don't you go to her now? She's undoubtedly concerned about you."

"If you think that's best," Mateo agreed, standing up. "Where is she stationed?"

"West woods by the creek bed."

Mateo took the stairs two at a time, the excitement in his chest driving him on, his weariness from the journey faded to a memory. How he longed to see her, to hold her! As soon as his feet hit the dirt outside he pushed off into the frigid air, and within minutes had reached the creek bed, which was partially hidden by a thin, dusty layer of snow. Using it as a guide, he flew along keeping an eye out among the shadowy trees below; Tonia liked to sit up high in the branches. They often could be found perched there together. Thus it came as a shock to find Tonia standing on a mossy patch talking to herself, not seeming at all to be on guard duty.

He circled the area once, angling to touch down just as Ruben moved out from behind a tree and into view. Instantly Mateo halted in mid-air, his formerly giddy chest being crushed by doubts and suspicions, hurting so badly he felt nauseous. He was ready to turn and leave when Ruben's hand shot out to grab a chunk of Tonia's hair, pulling her forward as she struggled.

Suddenly all was forgotten but his love. He heard Tonia shriek and strike at her assailant, heard her fist collide with his face only seconds before Mateo shot downward, driving both booted feet into the side of Ruben's head. He fell heavily to the ground at the same time Mateo landed without a sound.

"Are you alright?" he asked, unable to speak in scarcely more than a whisper with the fear for her safety choking him.

Tonia nodded, her lips quivering, her eyes moist with tears begging to be released. "He just got here before you."

Ruben stirred in the dirt. He managed to push himself up to a seated position, his face stained with streaks of moss and earth. "Don't let her fool you. She asked me to come, Mateo."

"That's a lie!" Tonia shouted, looking desperately at her husband.

Not knowing what to think, Mateo merely positioned himself in front of his wife. Maybe she had wanted Ruben to come, he couldn't say. They had things to discuss and work out, but _no one_ lays a hand on his beloved! In a low, menacing growl he said, "If you ever touch my wife again, I'll kill you. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

Ruben seemed unimpressed. To date he'd not witnessed anything resembling homicidal tendencies from this _sangrista_. He got to his feet in a fluid motion, sneering at the pair. "How touching. Why don't you ask your _wife_ how many men she's been with since me—yeah, that's right, I was her first. Didn't she tell you? She's a slut—"

He stopped talking when Mateo's fist landed in his mouth, sending a tooth soaring in an arc over the ground. Stunned momentarily, he didn't see the tremendous blow that followed, knocking him onto his back. Not skipping a beat, Mateo jumped on him—literally, crushing his stomach under the entire weight of his body. He hopped off and proceeded to kick the other vampire repeatedly in the head until Ruben went slack.

Panting with fury and exertion, Mateo stared down at the battered _sangrista_ at his feet. Driven by hatred such as he'd not felt for centuries, he wanted nothing more than to continue pummeling the bastard into mush, but he must restrain himself. Yadiro must be informed, let him decide how to deal with Ruben. He turned away to face Tonia.

"We need to tell Diro. He'll expel this sack of shit from the cult, I'm sure of it."

Tonia nodded, hesitant to meet his gaze. What must he think of her? He probably hated her now, despised her for her past. She wanted so badly to say something, anything to make him understand, but what? Was it too late? Would he—could he—understand? Her gaze drifted unwillingly past him; she drew in a sharp breath and rushed by her husband, her skill as a werewolf slayer taking over.

Her left hand grasped the right arm of Ruben, who'd sprung up with a thick, pointed stick in his fist, raised behind Mateo's back. With a hard jerk she wrenched the arm right out of socket as she bent it back over his head. Ruben screamed with the violent snapping pain; his knees crumbled and he fell backward, directly onto the stick he'd intended for Mateo. With his arm at a grotesque angle under him and the branch protruding through his chest, he looked up at her and moved his lips as if to speak. Then his head lolled to the side, the light gone from his eyes.

Stunned, Mateo came up next to Tonia and snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her close as they stared down at the corpse. "He would've killed me."

"Yes, he would have," she said softly. "I love you, Mateo."

To her greatest delight, he answered without hesitation, "I love you more."

It was now or never, and never would only complicate things so much worse. "I was afraid to tell you about Ruben…about what he did, afraid you'd shun me or murder him." A small laugh escaped at the irony of the situation. "I want—no, I need for you to know everything about me and Ruben."

"You don't have to—"

"Yes I do. After that, we'll go from there."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was getting close to the full moon and Remus was getting more irritable by the minute. After a full day of work as a stock boy in a Muggle grocery, his mood hadn't brightened one whit. To make his day more complete, he had to wait on the platform next to a moron with a humongous radio balanced on his shoulder, blasting tunes into his doubtlessly damaged eardrum.

As the song came to a blessed end, the disc jockey announced, "That was Rod Stewart with _You're in My Heart_. Next hour we'll disco into 1977, but coming up next on our Tour of 1978 is Warren Zevon with _Werewolves of London_."

Remus groaned and turned away. Why had he decided to take the Tube? He could've walked, it was only what—thirty kilometers? So what if it took half the night, at least he wouldn't be listening to this jerk howling along with that bloody song!

On cue the teenager tilted his head back and sang, "Ah—ooo! Werewolves of London. Ah—ooo!"

"Would you shut it!" Remus glanced around for who had bellowed that. Enlightenment struck him when he noticed everyone gawking in his direction. As no one was standing behind him, he had to conclude that _he_ had been the culprit. It really wasn't like him to fly off the handle like that.

The song continued to blare, but the boy with the boombox curled his lip. "You gotta problem? What? You a werewolf?" He laughed.

Remus didn't. He fought a strange urge to throttle the youth. He felt his lips drawing back into a snarl. _Control yourself, Lupin._ "Piss off," he muttered.

Fortunately or otherwise, the teenager merely flipped him off and went back to yodeling the lyrics louder than ever. Remus paced up and down like a caged animal. The moment the cars pulled up, he ducked inside away from the musical antagonist, only to find himself facing two punkers. One of them sported a tall blue mohawk and pierced nostril and was, sadly enough, conservative compared to his friend, whose fiery orange hair stuck out in clumps all over his head, he had no less than six facial piercings, and his eyeliner was running.

"What're you lookin' at?" demanded orange hair.

_A train wreck_, thought Remus wryly. "If you don't want attention, maybe you should consider dressing like a normal person."

"F—k you."

Nothing like pleasant conversation to pass the time. Remus checked his watch out of habit; he knew what time it was and didn't care anyway. He felt anxious and peevish, a sure sign he needed to go see Snape for his Wolfsbane potion tomorrow. Or more likely see the shop owner, since Snape tended to brew the potion and set it aside for Philana to sell. Lupin didn't blame him for not wanting the face to face contact, it was hellishly awkward for both of them. Maybe he should call in sick tomorrow; if today was any indication, he wouldn't be concentrating on work anyway.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Severus finished the Wolfsbane potion exactly as he did every full moon, set it on the counter in the special unmarked vial that everyone involved was aware of, and went back to his workstation to begin another order. Lupin wouldn't be in to get it until he'd gone, and thank God for small favors.

He'd got the new potion simmering and was busy taking inventory when a customer came in. "Philana, someone's here!" _Could use more eucalyptus leaves and root, running low on pulverized dragon heart._

"Hello!" called the customer.

_Where is that blasted woman? Probably out chatting up the old man from the haberdashery next door!_ With an impatient expletive Severus stomped out into the front room. "Oh, Merlin's beard! You!"

"It's nice to see you, too," Remus said dryly. He shook a layer of snow off his ragged jacket.

Snape glared in his most terror-inspiring glower which was, as to be expected, lost on the damned werewolf. "You're early." What he meant to say was _I'm still here, you shouldn't be_, it just came out wrong.

"Isn't it ready? I can come back."

Still scowling for all he was worth, Severus _accio_'d the vial, plunked it in front of him on the counter, and held out a hand for payment. No point in prolonging the agony. Remus paid him, took the potion, and left with a curt nod. All in all, not too horrible as encounters with Gryffindorks went. If only he didn't have an engagement to attend to shortly…

"Philana, where have you been?" he scolded, sounding far too much like his mother for comfort. "I told you I have to leave in a little while." Well, a couple of hours.

"Severus, calm down," said Philana, bustling in. "I brought you lunch because I knew you wouldn't bother to eat later."

Why did she have to go do something nice when he was trying to be a prig? It thoroughly spoiled the whole mood. "Thank you," he said in a quiet voice, taking the offered food. It did smell good…

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Hogsmeade in mid-December: cold and snowy, crowds bustling with fun and business, students from Hogwarts making their final visit before the Christmas holiday. It was the last that interested Severus, who'd Apparated directly there from the shop with a purpose. The Christmas decorations and holiday cheer failed to penetrate his determined objective. He strolled single-mindedly along the blustery streets gripping his warm cloak about him, his head swiveling unwaveringly in search of his prey. There were a few faces he recognized, those who'd been fourth years when he graduated; he paid them no mind. His black eyes peered into shops and among groups gathered to chat in the chill, dismissing them offhand. He'd begun to feel the nip of the weather by the time suddenly—there _he_ was loitering in the shadows outside The Three Broomsticks.

Severus gave a tiny, amused grin that might have been construed by a casual observer as leaning more on the side of _cruel_ than _amused_. Snape would be inclined to argue it could be _both_. He sidled up to the boy, who didn't so much as bother to acknowledge his presence. _Typical pureblood snot._

"Remember me, Barty?" he purred into the youth's ear.

Crouch whipped his head round to look at Snape and his eyes enlarged two sizes. While he didn't recall the first name, the face was all too familiar—just like that Snape brat he'd transformed into a ferret! When he attempted to cry out in alarm, his voice caught in his throat in a way strangely reminiscent of a curse.

"That's alright, you don't need to answer," said Severus in a soothing tone that belied the sparks shooting from his eyes. One hand darted out and grabbed ahold of Crouch's arm, he glanced about quickly, then Disapparated.

They reappeared in a large field empty of everything but a broad expanse of snow with clumps of weeds poking through, not a house or human in sight. Before Barty had time to organize his paralyzed mind, Severus _accio_'d the boy's wand out of his pocket and held it up, pretending to study it while keeping a watchful eye on his captive.

"You like to torment kids, don't you, Barty?"

"Give me my wand, Snape!" he managed.

"I think not. Perhaps I should use it to torture you—you're fond of that pastime, I hear." Severus gave a tight-lipped smile. A flick of his wrist sent a binding spell on the boy, rooting him to the spot.

"Let me go!" He was visibly quaking, and not from the cold.

"Again, I think not." On the off chance someone might check the wand for the last spell used, Severus aimed at the ground and melted a bit of snow. Lame, but what would anyone expect from Crouch? He slipped Crouch's wand into his robe pocket and withdrew his own. "I prefer my wand, it commands power unlike any I might borrow. Don't you agree?"

"I didn't hurt anybody," Crouch pleaded. "Let me go."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. There are more ways to hurt someone than physically, Barty. Shall we review?" Taking one step brought them nose to nose, where Severus unceremoniously gripped the boy's chin in his palm to delve right into Crouch's mind with Legilimency. Memory after memory rolled across his brain in quick succession, including the scene three years earlier in the boys' bathroom when Severus had caught him picking on a first year, and had subsequently taught him a lesson…apparently he hadn't been harsh enough. The last scene to flash before his eyes was that in the hallway with Julius Snape. To have heard the tale from Tina was one thing; to see it firsthand made Severus' blood boil.

Snape broke off contact, barely refraining from clouting Crouch across the face. "It seems you need to be sorted out."

"Please don't hurt me! My father will get you, I swear he will!" shrieked Barty in desperation.

"You really are stupid, aren't you? Begging and threatening in the same breath," Severus sneered. Oh, there were so many things he could do, where to begin? "When I'm through with you, I'll heal you and take you back where I found you. You won't be able to prove a thing." His smirk grew ever wider at Crouch's petrified expression. What he said was the absolute truth and Crouch knew it. If he chose to torture the boy half to death, no one could prove a single iota if there were no marks.

"Please, I'll give you whatever you want!" Barty cried.

"I only want two things: for you to leave my brother and sister alone, and justice. I think I can count on the first, don't you?"

"I'll never touch them again, I promise!"

"Excellent. I'd _so_ hate to make another visit." Severus raised his wand, to the utter horror of the other. "Now for _justice_."

"No—"

"_Verpa gemynd percepcioun._"

The spell struck Barty in the forehead. He wobbled back and forth on his heels in a daze, then toppled into the snow on his side, oblivious to the freezing wetness pressed against his face. Unable to suppress another smirk, Severus leaned down over him, speaking as if they'd been carrying on a perfectly cordial conversation.

"It's so cold. Why did they leave you here alone in the cold, Barty?"

Shivering madly now, Crouch mewled, "Mum? Dad? I'm here, don't leave me!"

This was too perfect! The brat's mind had latched onto his _parents_. Severus had anticipated schoolmates, but this was definitely superior. _They despise you_, Severus planned to say, but stopped himself. To work properly the spell needed to feel real. He doubted Barty felt despised by anyone, let alone his parents, the coddled little prat.

"They don't like the way you behaved," he modified his original thought. "You've been picking on little kids, that isn't allowed. You need to be punished."

"No, Father, I didn't mean it," Barty pleaded to a phantom only he could see. His hands reached out to hold back thin air. "It was just in fun. Ow! Please—ouch! Father—"

Severus watched curiously, though impassively, as a bruise formed on the boy's cheek, as Crouch's body jerked with the force of imagined blows while he cried out and beseeched for it to end. To be honest, Snape was impressed; this was working far better than he'd expected, Barty's mind was crafting more creative torments than he'd hoped for. Perhaps Mr. Crouch did try to rein in his wretched child after all. Not that Snape felt sorry enough for the bully to stop it, naturally.

At last Barty stopped twitching, though he sobbed piteously into the melted snow under his head. Snape knew if he were to look he'd find Crouch's backside welted from the beating he had conjured in his brain.

"Your father was very angry, wasn't he? Now he's locked you in a cupboard. How does that feel?"

"Scared," Barty whispered. "So dark in here. He's so furious, he's never done this before, he only ever whips me."

Severus drew in a sudden breath. "What's that? There's something in here! It's big and it's _growling_."

Barty's body tensed and he stretched out his hands again with another look of pure terror. A high pitched scream echoed across the field. "Werewolf! Werewolf!" His arms flailed frantically in front of him, his whole body bucking and gnashing as he fought off the 'werewolf' in his mind. If Severus hadn't been fully aware of what was happening, he might have been caught up in the frenzy of horror himself. Gashes opened on Barty's face, arms, and torso, tearing his clothing, splattering the pristine snow with his blood.

With a disgusted sigh, Snape pointed his wand again. If he didn't stop the 'werewolf', the fool boy might actually tear himself limb from limb! "_Finite incantatem_."

Immediately Barty ceased struggling and went limp on the ground, panting. Finally he cautiously opened his eyes to peer around, seeming astounded to find himself here. Slowly realization hit home that he'd been here the whole time, that none of it was real, and he hissed, "You bastard! How could you do that to me?"

Severus shrugged, sneering, "I didn't do anything. Your imagination created everything, I only led you along. If I hadn't stopped it, you'd have killed yourself, you idiot."

Barty sat up in extreme pain, mesmerized at the red fluid dripping into the snow. He looked down at his body, which still bore the marks of the vicious assault. "I thought you said it didn't happen! I'm bleeding!"

"Hmm, so you are," agreed Snape nonchalantly, as if he hadn't noticed it before. He supposed he'd have to remedy that before taking the brat back to Hogsmeade. "Now, Barty, you're going to be a good boy, aren't you? If I find out you've begun your tricks with the younger kids again, we might have to make a special trip down memory lane. Wouldn't that be _fun_?"

"I won't do it again, just heal me. I'm dying!" moaned Crouch.

_Rather doubtful. Melodramatic might describe it more accurately_, Snape thought. While painful, the wounds really weren't that deep. "I don't believe you asked me nicely."

"Please, Sn—Mr. Snape, heal me," the boy begged.

"Much better. See how people respond to proper behavior?" Severus waved his wand several times, taking away every injury, mending the torn clothing, cleaning the blood from the boy and the ground. For all intents and purposes, this had never happened.

Snape bent down and grabbed the kid's arm, wrenching him to his feet. "I'll Apparate you back to Hogsmeade, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut. Understood?"

Barty nodded sullenly, then noting the death glare from the man he yelped, "Yes!"

Seconds later they were in a deserted alley in Hogsmeade. Severus took Barty's wand and shoved it hard against the boy's chest, holding it there as he murmured, "The pleasure's been all mine." Then he dropped the wand and Disapparated.


	77. Chapter 77

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Seven

Having promised on his Malfoy honor to return to his wife unscathed—and having been threatened with bodily harm to certain parts of his anatomy if he dawdled too long, making her worry—Lucius arrived in Spain. Faint rays of sunlight poked over the horizon, illuminating in a rosy glow the debris of Buitrago's old manor. He found the place quiet, restful even with its lack of human commotion.

Nevertheless, he also thought he'd better find the vampires' underground lair in the daylight, since his own eyes weren't so keen in the dark as those of the undead. He started off in the direction they'd taken last time he was here, yet the forest looked different with light to cast so many confusing shadows. By the time he despaired that he was getting himself hopelessly lost, a familiar sight caught his eye: a patch of leaves and brush beside an old rotted tree trunk.

Sighing with relief, he hurried forward and attempted to lift the heavy panel covering the entrance to Buitrago's mansion; it refused to budge. _Great_, he grumbled. Either it was latched from the inside—logical, though inconvenient for guests—or he simply wasn't strong enough…he wasn't a _vampire_, after all. He stomped hard on it in the hopes the servants would expect him and let him in, but nothing happened. Taking out his wand, he muttered an unlocking spell, reached down, and the door swung open for him. He was halfway down the stairs when he was accosted by a group of servants gathering around him, blocking his way.

One young lady that he didn't remember seeing the first time he was here demanded, "_Quien eres?_"

He knew what that meant! His lessons hadn't been totally forgotten. "I am Lucius Malfoy," he announced, anticipating a reaction from her and feeling a bit put out when there was none.

"_Que quieres?_"

"What do I want? Doesn't Yadiro tell you anything?" he sniped. _Mannerless wench!_ "And unless I'm mistaken, when you speak to me you ought to be using the formal Spanish form with me, since we are hardly on friendly terms."

She stared back blankly at him, not comprehending a word, then turned to her comrades, none of whom spoke English, evidently. A handsome young man with wavy brown hair rattled off something as he pointed at Lucius, who felt suddenly like an animal on display. However, whatever the boy said made an impression because they parted to allow Lucius through, going so far as to escort him to the table and bid him sit. Two of them scurried out, returning shortly with bread and wine.

"_Quisiera algo de comer, Senor?_" asked another. He remembered her from last time.

_Comer—refers to eating_, he reminded himself. Actually, he was hungry after his long trip. "_Si, por favor_." He silently congratulated himself on managing that phrase, simple as it was.

Before long they brought him eggs, ham, and other assorted items which he thought slightly off until he reasoned that this was their time to get up—this was breakfast fare. Anyway, it smelled good and tasted better. He ate alone in a nerve racking hush with servants lining the wall for the entire meal. When he'd finished, the young servant man who'd clarified for the others who Lucius was came over and sat down shyly in the chair beside him. The rest went off to who knew where.

Lucius looked over at him, pushed back from the table, and laid his napkin on his plate. "May I help you?"

The youth let loose a stream of words, ducking his head nervously and glancing sidelong at the newcomer. His hands lay in his lap, though he wrung them furiously.

"I'm sorry—what? Er, _que_?"

"_Es nuestra costumbre que ofrecemos a los visitantes algo…especial_," the youth said rapidly but softly, making Lucius lean in closer to hear him. "_Usted no es sangrista, no va a tomar sangre. Veronica dijo que Usted no quiere a las mujeres. Por eso, no hay nada mas que ofrecerle—"_

"Can we please get to the point here? You're rambling on and I have no idea what you're on about," said Lucius, trying not to be impatient, or at least not show he was growing impatient.

The young man, realizing that his speech had been in vain, decided he had only one option remaining: show the guest what he meant. In one swift move he lunged forward and planted a kiss on Malfoy's lips. Lucius let out a strangled cry and lurched back so hard he tumbled off the other side of his chair and cracked his head on the rungs of the chair beside him.

Face flaming red, he struggled to right himself while slapping at the lad's helping hands. "Get away from me, you pervert!" he hissed.

"_Lo siento, Senor_," the youth entreated over and over. To his credit, he maintained a respectable distance as he eyed the blond man getting to his feet and rubbing his head where he probably had a nasty knot forming.

The young man fidgeted from one foot to the other, hoping Yadiro wouldn't be angry at him and force him to leave. Part of his agreement in being allowed to stay here was being willing to accommodate guests. He'd only been trying to be sociable, to ensure Buitrago's guest felt welcome, only he didn't quite know how to do that at the moment. He'd never been faced with this scenario before. Ordinarily only _sangristas_ came, and they'd never asked for more than blood…he couldn't very well offer _blood_ as he did to visiting _sangristas_. He knew sometimes the women 'played' with _sangristas_, but Veronica had said the man didn't like women…there was nothing left except men, and it wasn't as if he _wanted_ to do things with the cranky wizard!

"Would you stop staring and go get Mateo? I don't care if you have to drag his lazy arse out of bed, just bring him!" Lucius ordered, grey eyes casting decidedly unfriendly looks at the lad, who stood stupidly trying to figure out what the damned man wanted. "Mateo!" Lucius shouted finally, and the servant's face lit with understanding. He turned and bolted down the hall.

"What I put up with for you," muttered the wizard to himself. He paced round the room repeatedly wiping a hand across his lips, shuddering each time. Why, oh why had he not learned Spanish when he'd had the chance? He was too old now, and he didn't feel like studying. Draco, on the other hand, would begin lessons forthwith!

"Hello, nephew. Have a nice trip?" The delighted smirk he wore and the mischievous twinkle in his eye said loud and clear that he'd been informed of the events a few minutes earlier.

Flushing anew, Lucius grumbled, "Cut the crap, Mateo. I know he told you."

"Maybe I should've come right out and asked if you'd been snogged lately." Mateo burst out laughing, to Lucius' mortification. "Was it good for you?"

"It's not funny!"

"On the contrary, I find it hilarious," Mateo grinned. "I'll bet Narcissa would heartily enjoy this story. I think I'll save it for a family reunion."

"Don't even think about it," Lucius warned ominously. "Not if you want my help."

Sighing dramatically, Mateo waved a hand as if in surrender. "Fine. Were you always a killjoy or do you save that illustrious side of you just for me?" The hateful glare from the human hadn't lessened much. It may have intensified a bit, in fact. "Alright, if you must be a peevish twat, maybe we should get down to business." He motioned for Lucius to follow him into the parlor off the main chamber.

Lucius went on in and huddled next to the fireplace, which he lit with his wand. He hadn't realized how cold it was in here until the fire began to warm him; he rubbed his hands together then extended them toward the flames.

"I'm not a peevish twat," he said peevishly. Wondering why he got no smartass answer to his remark, he craned his neck around only to find Mateo was no longer in the room. He shrugged and went back to gazing into the fire.

"Mr. Malfoy, how kind of you to come." Yadiro strode over to shake his hand, which sent a chill up Lucius' spine. No wonder the mansion was freezing, these vampires couldn't tell the difference!

"I only hope our endeavor will be successful," Lucius answered. "When do you wish to do this? Is everything planned?"

"Yes, I believe so. Initially Mateo had intended to take another, however I have decided to go," said Yadiro in the precise clip with which he spoke English.

"Diro, we can't leave the cult unattended," Mateo protested from the doorway where he was entering with Tonia. Looking concerned, he came over to face the leader. "We don't know how long it will take."

Yadiro nodded. "Indeed. But this is important. Once we gain access to Serapio, I must speak with him, so I must go. Perhaps you should stay to look after the cult if you are worried."

That shut him up. No way on Earth was he letting Tonia fly off into Montelongo's clutches without him, not when she'd confessed to him after killing Ruben that she'd also had a relationship with Serapio long ago. It wasn't that he didn't trust _Tonia_, but she was beautiful and sweet, any man would try to win her back. She'd stated plainly that she didn't love Serapio and never had, but—well, it just wasn't going to happen!

"Have you any suggestions for interim leader while we are gone?" Buitrago inquired, looking straight at Mateo.

At first Mateo balked inwardly, convinced this was a ploy to press him into staying, then he discerned the true meaning behind the words. Yadiro was saying, without giving voice to the words, that he respected and valued Mateo's opinion. "Well", he said thoughtfully, "I'd pick Esteban and Iselda. They're intelligent, competent, loyal, discreet. We shouldn't let many people know we're gone."

"My thoughts exactly," Yadiro replied, smiling just a touch. "I have already informed them and they are prepared. They will tell anyone who asks that I am making the rounds of our territory."

"So you asked my opinion just for fun?" Mateo sulked.

"I asked you to see if we were of one accord," responded the other simply. "I am pleased that we are." Yadiro addressed Lucius, who'd been following their conversation with interest. "We are ready. Tonia needs no alteration, she must remain as she is to speak with Rafael and convince him to let her in. For myself, do as you like."

Lucius took out his wand, scrutinized the vampire, then waved it in an arc around the _sangrista_'s head. Buitrago's appearance became altogether different; he now sported short, reddish brown hair and beard, and blue eyes. His facial features had softened a bit, enough to make him unrecognizable.

"How's that?" Lucius asked, stepping back to view his work.

Tonia pursed her lips, shook her head slowly and said something that evidently made her uncomfortable to discuss. Mateo got a murderous look, and soon all three _sangristas_ were engaged in a long, spirited debate in Spanish that ended with Buitrago stamping a foot on the floor and barking a single word. The others ceased arguing immediately.

Mateo crossed his arms over his chest to symbolically protest the leader's decision. In _yet another_ revelation, Tonia had suggested that Yadiro be made to look like _Ruben_ because Ruben apparently had some kind of connection with people in Montelongo's cult. This tidbit had come to light when the bastard had taunted her about her affair with Serapio, something he couldn't likely know about unless he'd been hanging around with _sangristas_ from that cult. If he had friends there, it made for the perfect opportunity to get in, and since no one except the three gathered here knew Ruben had been killed…

"There is—was—a _sangrista_ that I wish to resemble. He is dead," said Buitrago in a straightforward manner to the waiting Lucius. "Can you do it."

Lucius blew out a puff of air. They didn't want to make this easy on him, did they? Polyjuice potion would be ideal here…except he didn't have any and it wouldn't work on _vampires_. To his knowledge, one had to actually be fully _alive_.

"Imagine his face," he instructed. While he allowed time for this he organized in his mind the spells he'd need to use. Legilimency to read the memory, glamour charm followed by—no, _preceded_ by a disillusion charm to wipe the slate clean, so to speak, and to strengthen the spell to come. A tenuous combination that may or may not hold up. Modifying appearance was one thing; creating the look of another person, while seemingly quite similar, was far more precise and difficult.

He took a couple paces forward to peer into Buitrago's eyes, relieved to find a vampire memory right up front as requested. Fastening the image in his brain, he broke the connection and stepped back, waved the wand twice, and watched for the reaction. Tonia looked horrified, which meant he'd either been very accurate or so far off the mark it didn't register. Mateo looked sick with fury.

Yadiro addressed his friends now as he ran his hands through his hair. "It feels as it always does. How do I look?"

"Like Ruben," Mateo choked out. He walked right up to Yadiro to study his face, his distaste unveiled. It wasn't perfect, someone who knew Ruben well would detect minor flaws, but unless someone was actively searching for deviations, he doubted they would notice. As confirmation he glanced at Tonia, who'd huddled nearer to him and was clinging to his arm. It was close, too close in his opinion. "At least you still sound like you."

"Which I will have to remedy when we get there—unless…" His gaze fell on Lucius, who shook his head.

"Sorry, I can't help you there." Okay, he'd done a good job, only there was a serious pitfall where glamour charms were concerned. Should he mention it? It could prove to be important, life-threatening even if the charm failed. To be on the safe side, he concluded he ought to let them in on it.

"I need to say something. These types of spells are by nature imperfect. I can't make you exactly like anybody else and…I honestly don't know how long it will last. A week, maybe two. It's highly unlikely to sustain any longer than that, and _technically_ it could begin to break up at any time. It probably won't, but I thought I should warn you, seeing as you are headed into possibly risky territory."

Mateo furrowed his blond brows and eyed him with a I-wish-you-had-told-me-that-when-I-came-to-you scowl. "So the spell could wear off at any minute?"

"Nooo," Lucius drawled. "It could _begin_ to wear off at any minute. You'd notice irregularities, shifts in features and such before it happened completely. I've never known a glamour charm to simply vanish, it takes time—hours after the shifting starts—for it to wear off completely." He drew himself up in a disgruntled snit. Was Mateo insinuating he wasn't competent? "And anyway, my spells aren't feeble! They should last—as I indicated—for a week or so. I'm letting you know _just in case_."

"My confidence is restored," Mateo remarked dryly. Nonetheless, he sauntered over to his relative and whispered into his ear. Lucius got a shocked expression that made Mateo laugh out loud. "Do it," he urged.

Feeling both flattered and self-conscious, Lucius swept the wand twice over his great-uncle; exclamations of surprise and delight from Tonia and Yadiro greeted him. Standing in front of Lucius was…Lucius. Not a carbon copy, perhaps, but a pretty darn good copy.

The real Lucius cleared his throat. "If you're to impersonate me, I'd appreciate it if you divest yourself of those atrocious Muggle clothes and put on some proper robes."

Mateo smiled widely, fangs exposed, giving Lucius an unsettling glimpse at what he'd be like as a vampire. Objectively, he was clearly very handsome, albeit with a bit of smugness that Lucius was certain didn't show in his own face. Overall, he'd make a striking vampire…if he had to be one.

Mateo said in response to Lucius' comment about his pitiful wardrobe, "I'll take that into consideration, Lucius. As for my name, people already know Mateo. I think I'll go by 'Silvanus'. What do you think?"

Lucius bobbed his head. "Fitting, I believe." His wand lazily slashed through the air three more times, once at each _sangrista_, striking each with a jet of pale yellow light. "That will act as a barrier to basically any wooden objects—_just in case_," he said with a lopsided grin. "This spell, while wholly ineffective against magic, serves as a type of protective shield encasing the wearer's skin. It should last at least as long as the glamour charms."

"There was one more thing, Lucius," Mateo reminded him, as if he were idiotic enough to forget.

"I know, Ma—_Silvanus_," he retorted. "I'll place wards around the opening to the underground mansion. No one will be able to enter within a hundred meters unless they're a member of this cult or are invited in by a cult member."

Yadiro's ears perked up. He hadn't known it was possible to do such a thing, to magically restrict access to a location. Then again, he thought wryly, being a _Muggle_ he wouldn't be expected to know. "That is most generous of you, Mr. Malfoy. When you are finished, I wish you a safe journey home, and thank you very much for your help."

Startled, Lucius jerked his head over to the leader. "I'm not going with you? I had thought I'd go along in the event you needed spells restored, or if you—"

"Sorry, nephew, no can do," Mateo interrupted. "_Sangristas_ can smell human scent from a long way off. It would be too dangerous for all of us, especially you."

"Oh." Disappointed for reasons he couldn't put into words and didn't fully fathom, Lucius paused. Narcissa and his father would be happy to hear it, and he should be, too, he supposed. But he'd been looking forward to this, it seemed like it might have been fun! Oh well, better set up those wards and head home, he thought morosely. "Good luck to you. Let me know how it goes."

"I surely will," Mateo promised. He came up and threw his arms round his nephew, thumping him on the back so hard Lucius felt certain it left bruises. "Thank you, Lucius. I'll visit you soon."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The Potters had finally settled into their new house, the third one since going deep into hiding. Lily didn't know why she bothered to unpack, it seemed they spent all their time loading and unloading boxes, only to do it all over again a month or two or three later. But if it kept Harry safe from Voldemort, she wouldn't complain…not too much, anyway.

Today was special, they were to have a visitor. These few weeks before Christmas were probably the only time they'd be permitted many guests, she hoped to make the most of the season. At the sound of a knock at the front door, she ran into the living room where James, a sleeping Harry in his arms, had opened up to Sirius.

"Hey, you got our owl," James was saying. "Thanks for coming."

Sirius frowned. "Next time don't mention in your letter where you moved to, stupid! What if the owl got intercepted?"

"The owl was charmed by Dumbledore himself, it can't be captured."

"It can be killed and the message removed," Sirius stated. Was James this thick back in school?

James flushed. "I didn't think of that. Next time I'll charm the parchment. Lily, look who's here!"

"Lils, how are you?" Sirius crooned, giving her a bear hug and pretending to kiss her.

"Great, Sirius. You look well."

"Holiday cheer does that to me," he grinned, then sniffed the air delicately. "Is something burning or are you merely cooking?"

"Oh, my biscuits!" Lily exclaimed, dashing for the kitchen.

"Why didn't you just use your wand?" Sirius called after her, rolling his eyes and giving the 'women!' look to James. "You guys do carry your wands, right?" It seemed like such an obvious, ridiculous question he felt embarrassed to ask it, yet the expression on James' face made Sirius blanch.

"What for? Do you carry yours at all times, even at home?" he asked defensively.

Sirius eyed him curiously, tempted to ask who he was and what he'd done with James. Everyone knew Sirius was never without his wand! "Yeah, I do."

"Well, that's because you're paranoid," his friend replied. He laid Harry on the couch, nestled down beside him, and indicated the chair for Sirius.

"I'm paranoid?" Well, okay, he had a point there, arguing would be futile. "So what if I am? You should be, too. Voldemort is after you!"

Lily came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of hot cookies. "Voldemort won't find us. Half the time _I'm_ not even sure where we are!" she chuckled. She offered the tray to Sirius, who picked up one of the hot treats and tossed it from hand to hand to cool it down. "Anyway, Dumbledore has promised to protect us. He won't let us down."

_Not on purpose_, Sirius mused silently. Were these two so out of touch with what was going on that they honestly didn't believe they were in danger? Yes, Dumbledore was powerful; yes, he'd protect them as best he could, but he wasn't infallible. And Voldemort's Death Eaters weren't idle.

"You really ought to take more precautions," Sirius said finally.

"Like what?" asked James. "We're already in hiding. We don't want to upset Harry by acting all neurotic."

"It would upset him a whole lot more to be dead," grumbled his friend.

"Can we not talk about this? It's depressing," Lily murmured, handing a biscuit to James. She set down the tray and settled herself beside her husband. "It's so nice to visit with a friend again, I get so lonely."

Pouting slightly, James said, "Thanks, hon, much appreciated. I didn't know I was such bad company."

"You know I didn't mean it like that, silly. Oh, Sirius—did Dumbledore tell you that Professor Slughorn is retiring after this school year?" Lily positively glowed with excitement.

"No, I haven't spoken to Dumbledore lately, and I don't hang out with Slytherin gits if I can help it." He popped a cookie into his mouth.

"He's not a git! But anyway, I'm hoping he'll recommend _me_ for the post of Potions teacher," she confided, smiling so widely her cheeks looked stretched to the limit. "I think he will."

James peered at his wife in a dreamy, devoted gaze. "He always said she was one of his best students." The fact that Snivellus had been the other wasn't deemed worthy of comment.

"Are you forgetting something?" Sirius exclaimed so loudly it caused Harry to stir and begin to whimper. "You're hiding from Voldemort! Hogwarts is a very public place with loads of Death Eater's kids milling about!"

Lily waved a dismissive hand at him. "It's not like I'm planning to waltz down there tomorrow. The school year won't start until September, which is over eight months away. By then we probably won't be in hiding because Dumbledore will have killed or captured Voldemort and everything will be back to normal."

"He's not easy to find, Lils. He sends out his minions to do his dirty work," Sirius countered. "But if he is killed—and I pray he is—I wish you luck on getting that job. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Severus, I asked you here for an important reason." Dumbledore motioned for him to quit hugging the door frame and come in closer. He refused to go on until the stubborn boy gave in and sat across the desk from him.

The young man edged across the room warily. Why was he being called if not for another of the coot's brilliant ideas on information to feed the dark lord? The last had been successful, but…well, he didn't want to be too obvious. Lord Voldemort wasn't a fool, he'd figure it out if the Order members escaped again.

At last he reached the chair and eased himself into it. "Yes?"

"Good lad. Now Severus, I have news for you. Professor Slughorn and Professor Alacurius will be leaving us after this school year. That will leave two teaching posts empty."

Dumbledore continued to drone on, but Severus wasn't listening. Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts would be teacher-less! If he presented this glorious, wonderful opportunity to the dark lord, he'd be thrilled! Well, perhaps _thrilled_ would be a stretch. But he'd be…not irate. Yes, that was an adequate description. Or maybe he'd even be _pleased_. Definitely intrigued at the possibilities—

"Severus!" Dumbledore was actually snapping his fingers in the young man's face. "Are you listening to me?"

"Er—yes," Severus lied with a straight face. "Two teaching posts open, I got it."

"And?"

"And you'd like them filled," replied Snape smugly. Honestly, how hard was that question? Even one of the Marauders could have guessed _that_.

Dumbledore lowered the spectacles so his eyes could twinkle more menacingly at the flippant twit. "And who would I like to fill those positions, pray tell?"

_Go out on a limb, Snape_, he snickered to himself. "Not Death Eaters." Which, when he thought of it, seemed odd. Dumbledore certainly wouldn't want Death Eaters applying for the jobs, yet by informing Voldemort that the jobs existed, that's exactly what he'd get. Did that make any sense, even in Dumbledore's warped view of the universe?

"_Severus Snape_!" thundered the Headmaster, causing Snape to jump half out of his chair. "Is there something on your mind making it impractical for you to concentrate, or even to pretend to pay attention?"

"No, sir," Severus rejoined meekly.

"Good. Then you'll have no trouble recapping the high points of our discussion." The old man folded his hands neatly in front of him on the desk and commenced staring placidly at Snape, who held the stare as long as he could before lashing out.

"Alright, I don't know! Are you happy?"

"Quite the opposite, Severus. This is vital and you seem to be taking it very lightly."

"No, I'm not, I—I'm just concerned," stammered Severus, feeling put on the spot and unprepared. He hated that feeling! "If I tell the dark lord about this, he'll send Death Eaters to apply. It's entirely possible he'd send people I don't know, making it impossible for me to warn you, and they'd infiltrate Hogwarts."

"All very logical and well thought out," admitted Dumbledore. "Except I distinctly recall asking you _not_ to tell Voldemort about the Potions position. Professor Slughorn doesn't want it to be common knowledge, and word won't go out until the end of June."

"Huh," grunted Severus, blushing. How did he miss that? "Even so, there are plenty of his men proficient in Dark Arts who are capable of teaching them."

"I believe Voldemort will send you."

"Me?" Severus' brows pulled tightly together as he dipped his head, allowing his hair to fall over his face. After the last little fiasco at an interview, it seemed blatantly ludicrous to think the master would send him again. He'd acquired a prophecy—admittedly a desired one—but he'd not got the job. He'd come centimeters away from horrible torture for not obeying his mandate. "I failed the first time—"

"You weren't even interviewed, Severus. Voldemort doesn't know that _I_ know you were there. He knows you heard the prophecy and that you were thrown out. There is no reason to suspect I might be prejudiced against you, is there?"

"No," Severus agreed slowly. Now that he considered it, the dark lord probably would send him again to acquire the position, and God help him if he failed again! But he wouldn't fail, not if Dumbledore intended to hand him the post, which meant… "But I don't want to be a teacher!"

"There are many worse things you could be," said Dumbledore pointedly, shaming the youth. "I expect you to carry this news to him and let me know if he does intend to send you."

_Like I have a choice?_ "Yes, sir." He got up and headed for the door with a saying he'd once heard popping into his head. _'Life is like a fan: one side sucks and the other side blows.'_ Working both sides of life with Dumbledore and Voldemort sure felt an awful lot like that fan…

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The trio of _sangristas_ entered deep into Montelongo's territory without so much as a verbal challenge, making Yadiro scoff inwardly. Why had they no sentries? In fact, they saw no other vampires until they'd approached fairly near to Serapio's estate, when a perimeter guard with flowing black hair hailed them.

"Ruben! Good to see you back. Is that Tonia?" He flew over and hovered above their heads studying the others. "I can't believe you found her and she's really back together with you, lucky bastard."

"Hello, Beto," Tonia greeted, smiling thinly, eyes hard.

"Who's this?" asked Beto, pointing at Mateo.

"I can speak for myself," Mateo answered waspishly. "I'm Silvanus."

Yadiro slammed a fist quite roughly into Mateo's ribcage, knocking the wind out of him. "Shut up and behave yourself!" The alarming similarity of his voice to Ruben's froze Mateo and Tonia in place. To Beto he explained with a rueful smile, "He's a new _sangrista_, he hasn't been trained properly yet."

Beto snickered in a way that made Mateo's flesh crawl. "I wouldn't want to be him. I hear you're none too gentle with your protégés." His feet touched down on the ground in front of them. "Come on, Rafael's been waiting to hear from you."


	78. Chapter 78

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Eight

"Oh, that is _so_ not fair!" Bellatrix screeched. Automatically her wand whipped around and shot a hex at Dolohov, who diverted it fairly easily.

"You wanted me to be referee," Dolohov replied evenly. "The rules were no death hits and no curses while the opponent is down. You hexed Avery again after knocking him down, so he wins."

"I won!" she growled low in her throat, advancing on him like a lioness on her prey. "I don't care about your stupid rules!" She threw another two curses his way in quick succession, but they missed when he scrambled behind one of the large boulders in the field and cast one back at her, forcing her to defend herself.

In a split second the air was filled with spells of every color flashing back and forth between them, most to be turned aside, others to be dodged, both faces filled with grim determination mixed with the primal joy of battle. Avery, Sr. picked himself up of the ground and pulled his son with him to a crumbled section of the castle wall where they could watch in relative safety.

Dolohov sent a red spell streaking so close to Bella it singed the tip of her hair; she retaliated with a curse that blew apart a large section of the rock he was hiding behind, and another that nicked his arm with an accompanying roar of pain.

"You bitch!" he bellowed, flinging three hexes in a row. The first and second she blocked with a sneer on her lovely face; the third—a purple slash—came within a finger's width of taking her down. A slight look of shock washed the sneer away.

"Bitch, you say?" repeated Severus, smirking off to the side.

Furious as they were, they turned to glower at the newcomer who stood with arms crossed gleefully observing the duel. Bella spat at Dolohov to show her disdain, then lowered her wand as she approached Severus.

"What do you want?"

"Charming as ever, Bellatrix," he drawled back. "Never fear, I guarantee I didn't come to visit _you_."

Like a light turned on in a darkened room, Bella's appearance changed abruptly. She sidled up to him smiling—which alone was enough to rouse alert flags—and said in a silky sweet tone that sent chills down his spine, "We're getting ready for a Muggle hunt. Care to go with us?"

"Nooo," he answered warily, backing off, his self-preservation sensors shouting 'DANGER' at record levels. "I'd prefer to live another day, thank you."

Having ascertained that Bella had finished with her tantrum and was relatively harmless at the moment, Dolohov came over to join them, as did the Averys. He gave Snape a peculiar, insulted look. "Are you insinuating Muggles could outfight us? Well, _you_ maybe! Or is it that we're such bad aims we might miss and kill _you_?"

Using the most tactful manner he could muster, which sadly was only a notch above outright hostile, Severus said, "I'm not insinuating anything. I'm merely stating that Bella tends to be irrational and would use any excuse to get at me."

As if to prove him right, Bella threw a curse at him. Wand at ready anticipating such an attack, he easily deflected it. "Case in point."

"Halfbreed!" she snarled.

"Lunatic!" he shot back. Keeping his wand up, he backed slowly toward the castle. "We could go on all night insulting each other, but as delightful as that sounds, I need to see the master."

He was saved from another onslaught of curses, both verbal and magical, by the arrival of Rodolphus and Rabastan. Apparently Bella had been awaiting them, and she glanced about curiously.

"So where's blondie?" she demanded.

"Lucius isn't home," Rodolphus replied. "Off at work or something."

"Are you sure he wasn't hiding behind my sister?" she snickered.

Severus had frozen in place when he heard Lucius' name, his stomach lurching with revulsion though he maintained a straight face. "Lucius was going on this 'hunt' with you?"

Rabastan snorted half with laughter, half with contempt. "Right! Do you see him? Bella insisted we go invite him so she could crow over his refusal. He'll wish Muggles dead, but he won't get off his ass and do it himself, as you see." He gestured at the open air around him.

Severus grunted noncommittally, more relieved than he cared to admit. For the briefest moment he'd actually considered the possibility that Lucius had fallen wholly into the depths of Death Eater depravity, and the thought shamed him now. While Lucius was definitely no paragon of virtue regarding the treatment of Muggles, he was no murderer. By necessity a liar and a manipulator, even occasionally a tormentor, but not a murderer.

He resumed walking toward the castle with Bella's voice in his ears, "Sure you don't want to join us, Snape? I promise not to kill you _on purpose_." Visualizing her sneering as she spoke, he ignored her and kept going, resisting the urge to tell her to sod off. That would only cause another confrontation he really didn't want to get into right now.

Bella's snarky attitude was nothing new, he expected nothing less from her; finding Lord Voldemort in the castle kitchenette wearing a high-collared, furry blue robe and eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon—_that_ he had not anticipated. Severus drew up sharply, forgetting to shield the shock on his face.

"M-my lord," Snape stammered, his mind going blank. He ought to be doing something, what was it? Oh, yes! He dropped to his knees on the cold floor.

Voldemort waved the spoon in a circle with a twist of his wrist. "Rise." It sounded rather muffled through the gob of peanut better.

Thirty seconds of extreme awkwardness passed by in what seemed hours, what with the dark lord swirling the food in his mouth with loud smacking sounds that made Severus cringe. _Merlin's Beard, does he always eat with his mouth open?_ Severus regained control, forcing his features into obedience. He would _not_ wrinkle his nose with distaste no matter how appalling the scene became. He was a Death Eater, he was stronger than that!

"Have you a problem with my wardrobe, Severus?" asked Voldemort with an icy edged tone as he finally noticed Snape gawking at him.

"No, master, I-I just have never seen you in anything except black." _And not fuzzy with a belt tied in a bow at the front._ He was honestly afraid to look down lest he see a pair of bunny slippers poking out from under the table. Death Eater and spy or not, he wasn't sure he could take that with a straight face. Before he considered that it might be inappropriate to comment on it he blurted, "And I don't believe I've ever seen you eat before."

Voldemort's lips twisted upward. "What do you think, Severus? That I am capable of surviving without food? I'm flattered at the abilities you ascribe to me."

_Shut up, Snape! So help me, I'll kill you myself if you open your trap with another lame, ridiculous remark_, his brain warned him. And it wasn't kidding. "My lord, I have news. The teaching post at Hogwarts—Defense Against the Dark Arts—will be vacated at the end of the year. Again. It's almost as if the position were cursed the way it runs through professors."

"Indeed," grimaced the dark lord. Satisfaction shone through his apparent nonchalance. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

"Yes, my lord. I thought perhaps you'd like to send a spy to take the job so—" That was as far as he got.

The evil wizard shushed him with a raised hand, his red eyes dancing with the joy of finding a perfect opportunity to torment one of his underlings _with cause_. Ordinarily he took out his frustrations and anger on his men, which was only proper, but this—this was teaching a Death Eater to be better than he was. He felt almost like a schoolmaster preparing to instruct using the simple pattern he'd set for himself long ago.

Remind the Death Eater of his past failures/transgressions.

Elicit copious amounts of apologies and pleading, if possible reducing the man to tears—that always made his day.

Demand better service in the future, accompanied by physical reminders to perform better—again, reducing to tears being the primary objective with agonized suffering merely incidental, albeit savored.

"I sent you for that job last year, did I not, Severus?" Step one commencing.

"Yes, my lord." He hung his head. How he hated this game the dark lord played! He couldn't believe none of the others had pieced together the obvious sequence. Or perhaps they had but dared not mention it.

"You failed to acquire the position." Step one complete.

_Damn it, he's finished step one already!_ "There were extenuating circumstances, master, and I _did_ bring you the prophecy," he said softly, waiting for the first curse to be hurled at him, while hoping for the best.

Voldemort paused, vaguely disconcerted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! Snape should be on his knees groveling and begging forgiveness, not throwing in his face an accomplishment! On general principles he slung a _crucio_ at him. Now _that_ was better; he may not be groveling, but at least he was crying. With a glint of triumph in his eye he lifted his wand.

"I'm sorry for my insolence," Severus panted in a croak. Why had he thought that responding differently would change the game? Nothing _ever_ changed the game. "It won't happen again."

Good enough, Voldemort supposed. Step two complete… not as gratifying as he'd like, but it would do. "Because I am merciful, I will give you another chance to prove your worth to me. You will apply for this teaching position again, and this time you will _not_ fail, is that understood?"

"Perfectly clear, my lord."

Voldemort smiled inwardly, pleased to see how well his method was working. He really did have a knack for teaching, didn't he? His disciplinary techniques worked far better than those ineffectual detentions used at Hogwarts! Damned Dumbledore missed out when he denied the greatest wizard of all time the job, that's for sure!

"So you don't slip again in your duty, I must give you a taste of what awaits you if you fall short again." He raised the wand, Severus squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, and another _crucio_ sent him howling onto his back.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"I don't understand why you're moping around since you got back," Abraxas told his son. He studied the chess board and carefully moved a pawn up one square. This chess set of antique crystal had belonged to his great-grandparents, and no way was he permitting it to be used in wizard's chess.

"I'm not moping." Lucius pushed a bishop directly into the path of a rook.

"When are you going to learn you can't lie to me, son?" He moved the rook to capture the bishop. "You haven't played this badly since you were twelve."

Lucius shrugged. It sounded too much like whining to admit he felt slighted by the vampires, that he'd hoped for an adventure and instead was sent packing back to his boring routine. The greatest excitement he got here was Draco puking on him—hardly world class entertainment—or Death Eater torture fests, and he could do without those for the rest of his life.

Abraxas fixed his son with a steady gaze. "Did something happen while you were gone?"

"No, sir," said Lucius, shaking his head as he pondered the next move.

"Then why did you just move your queen into position to be slaughtered from three directions?" Abraxas raised an eyebrow and waited. Lucius wasn't forthcoming with his feelings, never had been, but if he pestered him enough and waited, he'd usually get an answer to why the young man was behaving in whatever way it might be. In this case, sullen and withdrawn.

"I don't feel like playing," Lucius grumbled, pushing his chair away from the game table and rising to his feet.

Before he could get away, his father snatched his wrist and pulled him back. "Tell me what's going on. Is it some Death Eater crap you can't talk about?"

"No, Father." He didn't even try to free his arm, he merely sat back heavily, letting his face fall. "It sounds so childish I imagine you'll berate me for acting like a baby."

"I promise I won't."

Lucius took a deep breath. "When I went to help out Mateo and his cult, I assumed I'd be going along on their trip. Life here is so monotonous, it seemed like a fantastic opportunity to do something useful and intriguing. Instead, here I am back in ho-hum heaven."

Tempted to smile, Abraxas managed to hold it back. "So basically you're bored with your life."

Lucius paused, then nodded.

"Welcome to the real world, son. Everybody becomes disenchanted from time to time, but what you think of as boring can also be looked upon as a steadying influence. Your wife and son are your anchors, and maybe they feel like a heavy responsibility, but they're the ones that make life worth living. The daily routine seems far less tedious if you consider that it may be the last time you ever see them."

Abraxas halted abruptly, his hands busily replacing the chess pieces in their spots, his vision blurred by a sudden attack of memories. _His_ wife and _his_ children had been his life; one by one they'd been taken from him until only Lucius remained. While he'd never wish such sorrow on his son, he did wish the young man could appreciate the gifts he had.

"Father, I'm sorry." Lucius got up and laid his hand gently on his sire's shoulder. He recognized the forlorn expression seen only when Abraxas thought of his beloved family. "You're right, I shouldn't take them for granted when nothing else would matter without them."

The older man reached across his chest to rest his hand on top of Lucius'. He gave a firm squeeze, then let go. "Why don't you go bring Narcissa down. The remaining details for our annual Christmas party need to be finalized."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Draco, honey, come to mama." Narcissa squatted down in the hallway and stretched out her arms to the tiny boy.

Draco, propped up on all fours in his newly acquired crawling position, twisted his neck around to look at his mother, his grey eyes twinkling. He giggled and scurried up the hallway, forcing Narcissa to get up and trot over to him. He slowed down to check her progress, and let out a squeal of laughter when she bent over to pick him up. In a heartbeat he'd scuttled further down the corridor with the woman in pursuit. As soon as she neared him once more, he took off at maximum speed, which unfortunately wasn't fast enough to elude his mother.

Narcissa scooped up the chortling bundle while smiling broadly at her perfect, beautiful child. "What a naughty boy you are," she cooed, rubbing her nose on his.

"He ought to be spanked, not coddled," said an unfamiliar voice to her left.

The young woman started and glanced around in alarm; seeing no one, she looked over at a row of seven portraits, all male, obviously Malfoys. It seemed distinctly odd to her that they were shuffled off to line a hallway leading only to guest rooms, since most of the several centuries' worth of portraits hung in prominent positions throughout the mansion.

"Who said that?" she asked, instinctively wrapping her arms tighter around the child.

"I did," answered a blond, middle-aged gentleman in expensive but somber dress robes. Were it not for the cold, almost cruel set to his mouth and eyes, he'd be rather handsome.

"Well you have no right to tell me how to raise my son. He's a _baby_, what kind of person hits a baby?" exclaimed Narcissa, her voice rising with indignation.

"Teach them while they're young," another portrait chimed in.

"Who are you?" asked the first portrait to the staring woman.

It occurred to her she'd never actually been down this way before, she didn't know these people and they didn't know her. "I'm Narcissa. Lucius' wife."

The portraits all started talking at once—not to her, but to one another. Then the first portrait said, "I am Horatio, Lucius' grandfather."

_Horatio!_ Abraxas' father, the horrid man Lucius had told her about that had made Abraxas' childhood and young adulthood miserable, who'd frequently tortured him and imprisoned him in the dungeon under the guise of 'discipline'. Narcissa found herself backing off involuntarily, clutching Draco protectively.

"I've heard of you," she replied, keeping her tone level. "Now I know why I've never seen your portrait. Abraxas hid you down here so he'd never have to look at you."

_The wall of shame_. That's what Lucius had called this place once when he spoke of his grandfather, when he'd described how Malfoy sons who despised their fathers—usually for their ill treatment—brought the portraits to this wall. Tradition dictated they hang the pictures; no one said they had to view them.

Horatio's features lit with irritation. "You're a cheeky little wench, aren't you?"

"What if I am? There's nothing _you_ can do about it." She started to walk off.

"Why you haughty little bitch!" Horatio barked.

Narcissa whirled on him, eyes flashing, wand already in hand. "Don't you dare call me names! Your son put up with you because he had no choice no matter how wretchedly you treated him. I don't have to tolerate it. I'm one spell away from burning your portrait to ashes, so don't tempt me!"

Horatio glared down at her, looking as if he wished he could throttle her. "I'll make sure Lucius finds out you drew your wand on me."

"Please do! Lucius loves me and he loves his father—I don't think he'd mind one bit if I wiped you off the face of the Earth!" Her threats might have held more menace if Draco hadn't been snatching for the wand, forcing her to play keep away from him.

Grumbling to the other Malfoys, Horatio sniped, "So this is what Malfoy Manor has become—a waif of a girl running the show, threatening to do away with the ancestors. My wife obeyed me, just as my son did."

"Because she was afraid of you, but I'm not. Malfoy Manor is a happy place now, and I intend to keep it that way." Then, startling herself as much as the row of Malfoy patriarchs, she did something she doubted anyone had ever dared do to Horatio: she stuck her tongue out at him and flounced off, ignoring his bellows after her.

Coming up the hallway in search of his wife, whom he'd been unable to locate in their room, her study, the nursery, or her library, Lucius heard shouting and caught sight of Narcissa down the little used hall housing the 'wall of shame'—and saw her stick her tongue out at them. He stopped in his tracks, flabbergasted. He knew he should be appalled, annoyed even since they were his ancestors, albeit not any he was proud of. Malfoys simply did not behave that way, not even as children…. In spite of himself, he began to laugh. This was his feisty wife, the one he loved above all else!

He sauntered down the hall to meet her, threw his arms around her and Draco, and kissed them both repeatedly all over their faces. Draco screamed with laughter; Narcissa's reaction, while somewhat more subdued, gave him every bit as much pleasure. These were his anchors, his life. He couldn't be more happy to be exactly where he was at this moment.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Rafael's been waiting to hear from you._ Wondering exactly why Rafael awaited Ruben and what connection they had to one another, Yadiro followed Beto into the estate, a fine large manor house, though considerably smaller than his own had been. On the way in he noted two _sangristas_ patrolling the perimeter of the railed roof, ostensibly keeping guard. Inside, the house seemed ominously quiet.

They passed rapidly through several rooms decked out in finery, at least from what he could see at that pace. Beto led the trio to the library where a young man in his twenties with light brown hair sat behind a desk studying a map. He lifted his head at their entrance, greeting them with deep set hazel eyes. Seeing 'Ruben', he stood up smiling and came around the desk.

"Ruben, you've made it." He embraced the other, and feeling it necessary to play along, Yadiro embraced him in return. "Tonia," Rafael said as if her name possessed a foul taste.

"Rafael," she clipped back, not bothering to hide her animosity. "I'd not have expected to find you here. I didn't know you could read."

Yadiro pressed her around behind him to stand beside Mateo. "I guess she still doesn't like you," he smirked, again sounding astoundingly like Ruben. He'd almost forgotten how in his youth he'd enjoyed mimicking his friends and the adults around him; he could never in a million lifetimes have dreamed how handy that would come in now.

Rafael motioned past him at Mateo. "Who's this?"

Remembering by way of the pain throbbing in his ribs the last time he'd spoken out of turn, Mateo kept his mouth shut. "That's Silvanus," answered Yadiro. "I brought him into the fold a couple weeks back, without Yadiro's knowledge, of course. I'm trying to teach him the _right_ way." He winked conspiratorially at Rafael, not even quite sure what he was getting at, hoping to elicit information.

"As well you should, get him on our side from the start," nodded Rafael.

"Where's Serapio?" demanded Tonia.

Yadiro turned to shoot her a warning glare, but Rafael only laughed.

"You don't want to make Ruben jealous, do you, Tonia?" he taunted. To 'Ruben' he said, "I take it you haven't told her about her old lover."

Suspecting the worst, Yadiro's stomach flopped in a most sickening thud he felt sure they must have heard, yet no one reacted. Serapio was dead, he had to be! Yadiro only hoped they hadn't mutilated him and left him scattered throughout the manor. Even so, he was playing the part of Ruben, he'd best do it well unless he wanted every guard in the place upon them.

"No, I haven't told her. Why don't we _show_ her?" _Please forgive me, Tonia_, his eyes pleaded as he looked her way.

With Rafael in the lead and Beto bringing up the rear they trooped out round the corner and down a hallway toward what looked to be the kitchen. Before they got that far, Rafael stopped next to a plain wooden door and flung it open. They descended a flight of stone steps into a damp, chilly cellar that stretched over half the length of the house above. A single torch cast a dim flickering glow.

Sitting on the floor chained to the far wall by a heavy manacle on his ankle was a young man close in age to Rafael, resembling him somewhat, though his silky brown hair clung to his neck and cheeks from the dampness and he looked haggard and sickly from lack of blood.

Tonia drew up short and gasped. "Serapio!"

"Tonia," he croaked hoarsely, surprise and incredulity passing over his countenance. "Help me."

Rafael gripped her arm tightly when she tried to move toward Montelongo. "There's your old beau. Pathetic, isn't he? You should be glad you decided to come back to Ruben."

Serapio, who heard everything quite distinctly, seemed to shrink in total defeat, letting his head bang against the stone wall. Any fantasy he had of being rescued died. Tonia had sworn to him she hated Ruben, yet here she was consorting with him, one of the _sangristas_ responsible for his predicament. His cousin had betrayed him, his men had abandoned him, and the only one he'd loved was working with his enemies. There was no hope.

"Get out and leave me alone," he ordered to no one in particular.

A simple wave of Rafael's hand brought a guard from the shadows. He strode over and kicked the prone man several times while shouting at him to watch his mouth, then he withdrew to the corner as if he'd never been.

"You're not the boss, Serapio, I am," Rafael said smugly. "Get it through your head." He turned his back and began to ascend the stairs with the trio right behind him.

Tonia had covered her eyes in fury and disgust, unable to bear the scene, and remained thus most of the way up the stairs. Mateo looked back at the helpless _sangrista_, wishing he could speak to him, to assure him he wasn't alone and they'd come to help. In the back of his mind he was gauging whether he and Yadiro and Tonia could overpower the vampires at the house…he wasn't so sure they could. He'd seen five; how many were there that he hadn't seen? Sickened and angry, he plodded up the stairs behind Tonia.

The moment they reached the top Tonia burst out, "How could you do this to him? He never did anything to you!"

Rafael smiled cruelly at her. "He was in the way. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He's my cousin, I couldn't just _kill_ him." A barked laugh escaped him. "Yes, I could, only the people expect to see him every now and then, and I haven't quite figured out how to work that if he's dead."

"You mean the people would turn on you if you murdered him and took over, so you took over without even letting them know!" she seethed at him.

Rafael raised a hand as if to strike her, but stopped himself. "Ruben, would you shut her up? She's getting on my nerves."

"Tonia, you and Silvanus go outside and wait for me," Yadiro growled, sounding quite perturbed. "I'll be out in a minute."

Tonia lifted her chin and sniffed indignantly, spun on her heel, and stormed out the way they'd come, Mateo right behind her. Yadiro gave an embarrassed grin.

"I just got Tonia back, I can't be too hard on her or she might run off again," he explained. "Let me send them away to get them out of our hair; Silvanus will make sure she doesn't try anything stupid."

The self-proclaimed leader shrugged. As long as his nemesis was gone, he couldn't care less how it came about. "Alright. Meet me back in the library when you're done."

Yadiro headed for the exit, his thoughts whirling wildly through his brain. Rafael had forcibly wrenched power from Serapio, but he knew his followers wouldn't be happy about it, which meant Serapio was well-liked. From the looks of things, Rafael wasn't inclined to keep his cousin alive indefinitely, and may decide at any time to extinguish his life. They needed to find a way to free Montelongo from the dungeon where he was being held and restore him to leadership before being found out and killed themselves. With no allies in sight, he wished himself good luck.

He found Tonia and Mateo outside, a distance from the house, huddled among a grove of trees. A quick visual inspection ascertained there were no guards within earshot. "Tonia, what the hell! Is that your idea of being subtle?"

"Ya—" she started before he cut her off with another warning glare. It made her grimace to have to use _his_ name. "Ruben, you saw Serapio, what—"

"Yes, I saw. There's nothing I can do at the moment, and pissing off Rafael is not helping!"

Mateo interjected to stop the argument about to escalate. "Back when we met Beto, what'd you punch me for? That hurt!"

His friend grinned sheepishly. He'd done the first thing that came to mind, something he imagined Ruben would do. "I had to make it believable. You were being obnoxious, you both need to treat me like I own you…it's disgusting, I know, but do it. Now listen very carefully, both of you. Tonia, go find some of Serapio's _sangristas_ you trust—really trust with your life, because this is no game. _Silvanus_, help her organize as many as you can get to rally against Rafael and his men. I haven't determined what odds we're up against, but I'm willing to bet it's more than the three of us can handle."

"Why don't I just bring _our_ cult members?" asked Mateo.

Yadiro cocked his head and arched his brows as he stared at the grey eyes and long blond hair surrounding Lucius' face. "Looking like that? They wouldn't know you or believe you, and by the time you convinced them it may be too late."

"Iselda and Esteban know, they could tell our people."

"True, I forgot about that, but it's not a good idea anyway. It would be viewed by Montelongo's cult and any other cult as an attempt by us to take them over. We can't risk that. Montelongo's people already realize something isn't right, they know Tonia and hopefully will listen."

"I know of some who will listen," she affirmed, straightening up with a purpose.

"You'd better hurry." Yadiro made a vague gesture at his face. "We have a limited amount of time, and I get the feeling Serapio may not have even that much."


	79. Chapter 79

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Seventy-Nine

Leaving Mateo and Tonia to the task of finding and gathering enough _sangristas_ to overwhelm Rafael's henchmen, Yadiro trekked back up to the mansion, his mind troubled. His disguise would wear off within a week or so—if he was lucky to have it last that long. He couldn't begin to predict how long it might take to rally the necessary forces, and it bothered him to leave all the planning to someone else. He trusted Mateo implicitly…now he must literally trust him with his life, because if the makeshift army failed to appear and Yadiro were discovered, he'd be dead.

He found Rafael and Beto in the library poring over a map of the continent. Closer inspection revealed that each cult in Spain, Portugal, and France had been outlined and marked, with arrows here and there that he hadn't time to try to figure out.

Rafael looked up from the desk with a hopeful expression in his eyes. "So tell me, what have you learned at Buitrago's estate?"

_Aside from the fact that you sent that bastard Ruben to spy on me and I let the wretch into my cult?_ "Not much, I'm afraid," said Yadiro, his own eyes still lingering over the map. "He's angry about sending our people into his territory, and he can't understand why Serapio wouldn't answer him when he sent an envoy."

Beto chuckled in the background. "Serapio's a bit tied up right now." Thinking himself hilarious, he doubled over laughing.

Rafael jammed him in the side with an elbow. "Shut up. That's not any help at all, Ruben. I assumed he'd be angry, that was the whole point!"

"I know," agreed Yadiro, who at this point hadn't a clue what was going on but thought it wise to agree. "The thing is, he doesn't want to start anything, he's basically decided to sit on his hands until Serapio makes another move. Hell, you could probably take over half the border territories and he'd let it go."

Suddenly grave, Rafael frowned and shook his head. "No, Buitrago is crafty, and he doesn't put up with bullshit—at least he hasn't for the three hundred years he's been a cult leader. Unless he's going soft, which I wouldn't count on, he's planning something."

"That's just it!" exclaimed Yadiro, forcing himself to look disgusted with…himself, and not finding it very hard. He should have looked into this situation long ago! "All he did was ask around to see if anybody knew anything. I expected _some_ action, but he's waiting it out. Disappointing, actually."

A stream of expletives flew from Rafael. Damn that Buitrago, why couldn't he take the bait! "He suspects something, he must. Otherwise he'd have sent his men to throw us back to our side of the border."

Beto, who was now busy combing his long black hair and tying it with a leather cord, spoke up. "Maybe we need to kick it up a notch. He's got a big territory, he can afford to write off one tiny town."

"Any suggestions on what we can do to piss him off enough to attack us and risk the displeasure of the surrounding cults?" asked Rafael to whoever might have an idea. The expression on his face said he was dead serious.

_Holy God! That's what he's up to?_ Yadiro thought, shocked into numbness. Why on Earth would Rafael want his people to be attacked by an obviously more dominant foe that he had no chance of defeating? What would be the point of riling surrounding vampire communities? Then, like the final puzzle piece, it clicked in his mind and he drew in a sharp breath. Rafael was hoping to win alliances with other cults _against_ Yadiro, and the way to cement sympathetic allies was by showing a small cult being assailed by an aggressive, large one! Yadiro was being set up!

"Ruben, any ideas?"

"No, sorry," answered Yadiro distractedly, his focus on the fact that he and his people were being led like sheep to the slaughter by this deranged little prick who'd stabbed his own cousin in the back!

Yadiro felt a wave of utter fury at the brazenness and braced a hand on the desk to keep from lashing out. Apparently Rafael and his cronies intended to push Yadiro until he retaliated, then go crying to the French and Portuguese cults, saying that Buitrago was bullying them and trying to take them over. The French especially would be inclined to accept the lie at face value since they resented Yadiro's massive stronghold. If they joined forces with Rafael, the ensuing war would leave both major cults decimated…and Buitrago's territory wide open for the taking. It made him physically ill and incredibly livid, both of which he turned his back to hide.

"You alright there?" inquired Beto, coming around the desk.

"I'm fine," Yadiro snapped, waving him off. "It was a long flight, I guess I'm tired."

Rafael picked up a bell from the bookshelf behind him and rang it loudly, summoning a human servant into the room. The young woman rushed in to stand at the door and await instructions. "Make up a room for Ruben. You hungry?" he asked the _sangrista_.

"Not really." Yadiro settled his rump on the edge of the desk, half sitting, compelling himself to concentrate, to push away his feelings and think. He'd have time to be irate later. "How long's it been since Serapio fed?"

"Who knows?" shrugged the other, wholly indifferent to the plight of his relative. "When he's hungry he's weak, that's good for us. The only problem with starving my dear cousin is keeping him lucid for his appearances. He looks sickly and disoriented, the people are starting to question if he's well. With Buitrago dragging his feet, this is taking longer than I anticipated."

Feeling a little more centered, his ire shoved down, Yadiro stood up. All wasn't lost; now that he understood their plan he had the ability to thwart it. As long as he refused to fall prey to their trap, things would be alright, his territory and his people would be fine. Assuming he lived that long. "So feed him. It will buy you time."

"Ever practical, aren't you?" sneered Rafael. "Well, I'm not in the mood to listen to his ranting. It's your idea, you do it." When the servant came back to announce the room was ready, he said, "Take her, but make sure Serapio doesn't gorge himself!"

Heaving a disgruntled groan for Rafael's benefit, Yadiro motioned impatiently for the girl to follow him as he traipsed back down into the cellar. Montelongo still lay sprawled on the floor looking like a pitiable creature, though the scent of a human caused him to open his eyes and sit up straight, his lips parted with longing. He said nothing, but his cavernous eyes gazed hungrily at the girl and his breathing became short and shallow. He wanted her as he'd never wanted anything in his life.

Without any preliminaries Yadiro pushed the human at him. "Feed."

Serapio sprang to his knees, looking warily at Ruben; it wouldn't be the first time they'd tormented him with promise of blood, only to snatch it away at the last second. Nonetheless, he reached out slowly, then lunged at the young woman, dragging her to her knees where he could latch onto her neck and suck greedily before Ruben took it upon himself to cruelly tear her away.

Ordinarily a _sangrista_ fed once a week; many weeks had passed since he'd been imprisoned here in his own cellar by those he used to call friends. It had been so long he'd almost forgotten how delicious blood tasted, the feel of it warming through his body, the strength he derived from it. To his amazement, Ruben permitted him to take his fill, though he was heedful not to endanger the servant's life. Even with his care not to drink too much, the girl fainted and fell at his feet.

"I didn't kill her!" he protested, backing off lest Ruben use it as an excuse to abuse him—as if they needed an excuse.

"Did I accuse you?" Yadiro came forward and lifted the girl into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He noted with satisfaction that Serapio was now standing erect, looking much healthier.

"Why are you being kind to me, Ruben? Does Rafael have more _plans_ for me?"

"I don't know," replied Yadiro truthfully, though he probably ought to try to find out. With the guard in the corner, he could say nothing of comfort to the true leader of this dysfunctional cult. In a hastily made decision he hoped he wouldn't regret, he did, however, lean in and whisper, "Things aren't always as they seem."

"What?"

Yadiro winked at him, turned, and carried the girl up the stairs.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

The Snape home, for all its hovel qualities, looked quite cheerful with the small decorated Christmas tree wedged in the corner of the cramped living room, its lights blinking merrily. Christmas carols played on the radio in the background. A few packages under the tree made the joy much brighter for the twins, who'd come home for holiday and were re-accustoming themselves to being here.

"I really like the kids in Ravenclaw," Justina bubbled. "They're all so nice and they help the younger kids when they need it."

"What about your House, Julius?" Eileen asked. She reached out to pat the boy's shaggy head. He needed a haircut.

"It's okay, mostly they're nice," answered the lad evasively. Mum didn't know about Barty Crouch and his creepy friends or about Severus threatening him. Well, not that Severus would admit it, but Julius _assumed_ Severus had threatened Barty, since lately Crouch had kept a good distance from the Snape twins and didn't seem inclined to torment him anymore.

"My best friend is Miles MacKenzie," Tina gushed. "He's smart and—"

"A _Hufflepuff_!" Julius interjected with a sneer. "And you can't have a _boy_ as your best friend, that's weird."

"Can too! He's better than you, frog face!"

"You _like_ him!" taunted her brother wickedly. "I can't wait to tell everybody."

"Julius, stop it," admonished their mother. From the flushed cheeks on Tina, it was apparent the girl did fancy this Miles boy, but that was no reason to tease her.

Severus didn't bother to raise his nose from the book he was reading, though he heard everything. "Leave her alone, Julius," he mumbled. "There's nothing wrong with a girl being friends with a boy."

Julius snorted derisively. "Not even some Irish mudblood?"

All chatter ceased and a deathly chill swept the air. Severus closed his book with a snap and set it on the table, his eyes shooting daggers at his younger brother. Eileen's hand stretched out once again, this time to smack her son on the back of the head. He yelped more in surprise than pain.

"I don't want to hear that word in this house, is that understood?" she asked softly.

"Yes, mum." Then in typical Julius fashion he added, "But that's what he is!"

"He's a Muggleborn," Severus clipped. "You don't use the other term."

"What's so bad about it? Everybody in Slytherin uses it, why is it any worse than any other insult?" Oops! He'd just admitted he knew it to be offensive! He quickly scooted back out of reach of his mother and brother.

Noticing the tension in Severus' body, Eileen remarked, "It's getting late, you've had a long day. You kids go on to bed now." Knowing better than to argue, especially when Severus had 'that look', grudgingly the children kissed her and tromped off to their room. When they'd gone Eileen said hesitantly, "Severus, I haven't seen this look in your eye for a very long time. I know you loathe that word. Do you still refuse to tell me why it affects you so?"

For several seconds he didn't respond. There was simply no way on God's green Earth that he intended to subject himself to that humiliation all over again just to explain to mum why he detested that word. "I don't want to discuss it," he said finally. "I ought to go, I promised Lucius I'd go to their Christmas party."

She gave a light, "Hmm." If she recalled correctly, the Malfoys used to hold their Christmas parties on Christmas Eve. It was nearly a week early, but she supposed Abraxas did things differently from Horatio. "It's nine o'clock. Isn't it a bit late to go?"

Severus smiled as he shook his head. "It only started about an hour ago." He went on in to the room he shared with the twins, who were in bed whispering back and forth to each other. He left the light off while he shucked his Muggle clothing to change into his dress robes.

Justina lifted her head to look at him. "Severus, how come you got mad when Julius said that mean word?"

"Because I lost a good friend by using it, now go to sleep." He bent down to kiss her cheek; he'd have done the same to Julius were it not for the boy's aversion to fraternal affection. He pulled on his pants while thinking how oddly funny it was that he could give a brief explanation to his sister, who accepted it without question, yet to try the same with mum would never work. She'd continue to pry until she learned the whole sordid story or until he blew up and shouted at her to leave him be, neither outcome being acceptable in his sight.

As he buttoned his shirt, the awful, fateful scene replayed in his mind. He'd be the first to acknowledge he'd been wrong to call Lily 'mudblood', and he'd apologized dozens of times, to no avail. What he'd never understood was why _she_ had not felt it necessary to apologize to _him_ for calling him Snivellus and mocking his underwear. Surely she had to know how much it hurt him!

Julius had asked why 'mudblood' was any worse than another insult…Severus had no answer for that. Could 'mudblood' be such a heinous insult as to be unforgivable? He honestly could not comprehend why it was worse than what she'd said, yet Lily evidently thought so…unless, as suggested by Lucius—the only person he'd ever confided this to—Lily was using the word as an excuse to break off their inconvenient friendship, to distance herself from the 'Slytherin git' because of her affiliation with the Gryffindork crowd.

Severus shook his head roughly, forcing himself not to think of it. Whatever the reason, it was done, he didn't want to dwell on it anymore. Perhaps tonight's conversation might keep his headstrong brother from making the same mistake one day. He finished tying his tie, slung his dress cloak around himself, and headed out.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

They were everywhere Lucius looked. Nott and his wife had brought their infant son; Goyle was standing across the room drinking firewhiskey with Crabbe while holding his baby son as his three-year-old daughter played between his legs. The Zabinis had a couple of children as well…and the Patils with their twin girls.

"I swear to God, if the Weasleys show up—with or without their horde—I'll _avada kedavra_ myself in the head," Lucius muttered to no one.

He hated parties, he'd always hated them from the time he was a toddler and expected to make nice for the people, then as a young boy there to ingratiate himself by his exemplary manners and wit. The teen years only got worse, as he was now compelled to not only meet the guests but make small talk with them and begin making contacts he'd need later in life. Now as a man, he automatically did all these things with a smile on his face while inwardly despising the entire pretense. He'd wandered off alone to get a drink and take a break from the act when he saw it.

No, it couldn't be! Just when he thought this soiree couldn't get any worse, he glanced across the room at his lovely, sensual wife in her long, slinky red gown. She was carrying Draco, who was dressed in a miniature suit of dress robes and wearing a—an _elf hat_ on his head?

He practically flew over to her and yanked the silly hat from his son's head. "Narcissa, what are you doing?"

She snatched it back from him. "Do you mind?"

"Of course I mind, that's why I took that ridiculous hat off him," Lucius retorted. "He's not a court jester."

"He looks adorable," Narcissa countered, arranging the pointed stocking cap on her son.

"Why is he even down here? He should be in bed."

Narcissa sniffed, pointing with her chin at the children scattered throughout. "If they can bring theirs, I certainly can bring mine. I'm proud of Draco, he's so much cuter and smarter than the rest."

"Naturally he is, he's a Malfoy," Lucius readily agreed, as if it were so obvious it didn't need saying at all. "That's not the point. _Why_ are all these kids here? Didn't you specify on the invitations this was an 'adult only' party? Or am I the only one who got that memo?"

Narcissa pursed her lips guiltily and looked heavenward. "I may have forgotten to mention the adult only part."

_Forgot? Or wanted an opportunity to show off Draco_? He could hardly be angry when her motives were so admirable. Draco deserved to be shown off. Nonetheless, it brought a bunch of snot-nosed rugrats into his home. He grumbled, "Lovely. In an hour we'll have a slew of cranky brats squalling around—"

"Lucius, it isn't proper manners to insult your guests," said Abraxas from behind him. He came around to take Draco from Narcissa. "I've already instructed Sisidy to set up a nursery so she can watch the kids when they fall asleep. Dobby will still be available if we need anything."

"Well I just don't see how this 'oversight' happened," Lucius commented, glaring at his wife, who smiled and walked off to mingle. He knew he ought to let it go, he couldn't very well send them all home. He found his eyes resting on Goyle's son, a square headed bruiser like his father.

He watched in amusement as Abraxas hauled Draco over to talk with Goyle and _his_ father—three generations of the burly bunch all in one place. Draco peered keenly over Abraxas' shoulder at the other baby and babbled something imperiously; Gregory Goyle's expression became more dull-witted, if possible, then he extended his hand with the rattle he was holding. Draco smirked and took the toy.

"That's my boy," drawled Lucius smugly.

"That's my godson," Severus corrected him with a grin. "He knows how to get what he wants, just like his father."

Lucius spun round smiling and clapped Severus on the shoulder with his left hand, holding out his right to shake. "When did you get here?"

"Right now. I didn't realize you enjoyed children's parties so much."

Lucius gave him a withering glare. "That's Narcissa's doing," he lamented, leading him to a quieter spot near a far entrance of the ballroom. "What have you been up to?"

Snape heaved a sigh, his whole body slumping. "The master has ordered me to apply for the teaching post at Hogwarts again. I shouldn't have told him I heard the position was opening up."

In spite of himself Lucius had to laugh. Snape, who despised children on the whole, was poised to become a teacher! Wasn't life cruel?

"It's not funny."

"Sure it is, in an ironic kind of way," Lucius chuckled.

"How would you like to deal with a bunch of nitwits day in and day out? And I can't even quit or kill them," Severus grumbled snarkily.

Lucius had to say he'd abhor being ordered into that position, and trying to be supportive he said, "Well, there's always hope. Maybe you won't get the job."

Severus gazed back with a world-weary, glassy eyed stare. "You call that hope? The dark lord spent the better part of our conversation torturing me so I'd know what to expect _more_ of if I fail. I think it would behoove me to try my best."

"Yes, I suppose in the scheme of things that would be prudent." Lucius drifted off, his countenance registering revulsion and horror. Instinctively and very quickly he backed into the doorway and out into the hallway with Severus in pursuit.

Snape glanced over his shoulder for the cause of his friend's distress. Surely Lucius wouldn't be leaving if there were a threat to his family! His wand had appeared in his hand as his eyes swept the ballroom. "What is it?"

"Bella!" He spat the name in a hiss resembling Lord Voldemort's tone. "Who invited her?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Lucius, you're acting like a wuss! I thought something was wrong!" Severus stowed his wand, barely keeping himself from slapping the man.

A curl of Lucius' lip greeted him. "So you like her now? Why don't you go talk to her?" With another sneer he gave Severus a vicious shove in the direction of the ballroom, inadvertently missing the doorway and bouncing him off the wall. "Oh, sorry then," he said sheepishly.

"Moron," griped Severus, straightening up and rubbing his sore arm. "In case you forgot, this is _your_ party. Shouldn't you be in there?"

"Traitor," sulked Lucius. "Technically, it's the Malfoy party, and my father is there. Are you sure you don't want to go flying or play chess or something?"

Severus merely cocked an eyebrow.

Alright, fine, he'd go in to his child-infested, Bella-despoiled gala. It was one night, he could make it through _one night_, right? Grimacing, Lucius stormed past his friend muttering, "You're turning into my father, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Severus, smirking as he followed him in.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

_Things aren't always as they seem_. Legs stretched out on the cold, damp floor of the cellar, his back against the unforgiving stone wall, Serapio leaned his head back and closed his eyes. What had Ruben meant by that? And had Ruben really _winked_ at him? Or did he just have something in his eye?

Serapio sighed in perplexity. They were probably playing a sadistic game with him, trying to build up his hopes so they could dash them in a spectacular fashion. He didn't dare hope, not anymore, not when the despair came crashing in harder each time those hopes were shattered.

But Ruben meant _something_. He wouldn't have said it—whispered it—otherwise, being careful not to let the guard overhear. Was there dissent in the rebel ranks? Was he planning to usurp Rafael's position and possibly free Serapio? He could understand overthrowing Rafael, but why would he free Serapio when that would be the worst thing he could do for himself? Nothing made any sense, including Ruben taking compassion on him, feeding him after months of starvation.

Whatever they were plotting, he wished they'd just get it over with. He'd sooner be dead than spend the next century or more down in this musty cellar.


	80. Chapter 80Deliverance

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty (Deliverance)

Mateo looked around at the ragtag group of six _sangristas_ standing in a semi-circle in front of him. He tried not to appear disappointed, but he was pretty certain Yadiro would be. He and Tonia had tried, they really had; considering the fact that the Montelongo cult had a territory roughly an eighth the size of Buitrago's, it was hardly surprising that the number of vampires was substantially less. The number Tonia was sure she could trust was even fewer.

"Wait here for my signal. You all know what you're supposed to do."

They all bobbed their heads in unison. One of the young men had a long faux hawk that waved gently with the movement of his head. Mateo had never seen a group quite so taciturn as these…it sort of creeped him out. That, and the impression that if he weren't with Tonia, they'd be none too kind to him. Well, no one had claimed this cult was friendly, had they? Then again, perhaps he could attribute their reticence to the knowledge of what had become of Serapio right under their noses…a whiff of guilt, mayhap?

He kissed Tonia, locking his eyes with hers. She would wait for his signal, he knew, and she would lead the charge swiftly and silently until the noise of battle became inevitable. No words were necessary. Fingering the wooden stake stashed beneath his shirt, he turned to lope up the hill and across the estate, mindful of his beloved's eyes on his back, warming him.

The guards on the roof were the same two he'd seen the first time he came here, which heartened him. It lent credence to the notion that the gang who'd taken over the mansion and leadership were indeed a small band of miscreants. Recognizing him, they let him through unchallenged and he hurried into the mansion, where he ran smack into Beto.

The raven haired vampire shoved him away with an expression of disdain; he slammed against the far wall of the foyer. "Learn your place, Silvanus. You don't come here without permission."

"I need to see Ruben," Mateo said evenly. _Don't hit him, don't hit him_, he warned himself. Lest Beto decide it unimportant enough to bother, he added, "It's about Tonia."

"What'd the witch do now?" muttered Beto, though he whirled and stalked back the way he'd come with Mateo on his heels. They came upon Yadiro and Rafael in the parlor off the back porch. "He says he needs to see you, Ruben. About Tonia."

Yadiro leapt up looking worried and upset, which he was. Mateo seemed very grave; had something really happened to her? "What's wrong?"

"She, uh…she's not behaving properly," Mateo murmured, head down, trying to comport himself submissively. "She won't listen to me." He caught Yadiro's eye and held the gaze long enough for the leader to perceive the truth.

Relieved while acting peeved, Yadiro swore softly. "Rafael, I have to deal with this. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Take all the time you need to beat the little vixen into shape," Rafael smiled. "I'm sure she deserves it."

Shoulder to shoulder Yadiro and Mateo rapidly covered the distance to the door. Once outside, they flew up into a high tree where no one could hear them, but from where they had a view of Tonia perched in a tree two hundred meters away waiting for the signal to attack.

"I'm sorry, Diro, we only recruited six," Mateo whispered.

"It's alright, we won't need more. Aside from Beto, Rafael, and the guard in the cellar, I've seen only two others in the house. Did you notice any sentries aside from the two on the roof?"

Mateo grimaced. They'd noticed them alright. "They've already been taken care of."

Yadiro clapped him on the shoulder. "Good job. What's your plan?"

"Pretty basic. Send four to the roof to take out the guards, the rest of us go into the mansion and kill everyone but Serapio."

Yadiro cocked his head. "Um, didn't you forget something? They think Ruben is Rafael's friend and cohort. I'm not anxious to get jumped."

"Don't worry, I told them," grinned Mateo. He may not be a seasoned war planner, but he wasn't stupid!

"Alright then. Once I get in the house, you signal the others. I'll go to the basement and free Serapio while the rest of you clean up inside," Yadiro pronounced, his function as leader taking over automatically. "Let's get this done."

Not sparing a thought for the plight of the traitorous _sangristas_ soon to be mashed on the roof, Yadiro slipped back into the mansion as quietly as a specter. Swiftly he flew down the hall, his boots mere inches off the floor, a feat of control many vampires couldn't manage so effortlessly. He stopped at the door leading to the cellar, opened it without so much as a creak of the hinge, and walked down the steps.

The guard, whose name he hadn't bothered to learn, gave him a strange look. Ruben hadn't brought a human to feed Serapio, nor Beto or Rafael to taunt him. "What do you want?"

"I came to see you," Yadiro said honestly, his true intent hidden from the unsuspecting man.

He strode over purposefully as if to speak to him, then suddenly reached out both hands, grabbed the _sangrista_'s head, and twisted violently. The man fell in a heap at his feet, his neck at a grotesque angle. Not missing a beat, Yadiro broke off a chunk of the wooden handrail and rammed it through the guard's heart. He hoped the noise hadn't alerted Rafael or Beto. A rapid patting down of the dead vampire determined he didn't have the key to the shackles.

Watching in horrified fascination, Serapio didn't know whether to cheer or cringe. Was he next? Had Ruben gone off the deep end? When Ruben turned to face him, his features impassive, Serapio straightened. If he was to die, he'd do so like a man.

Yadiro approached the chained leader, bent down, and took hold of the manacle. "Pull with me. Together we can break it open."

For a brief instant Serapio hesitated, shocked. Ruben was actually helping him! Hurriedly he bent down as well, the fingers of both his hands sliding inside the rusted metal ring encasing his ankle. With Ruben pulling from one direction and Serapio yanking with all his might from the other, the manacle groaned, squealed, and popped open with a loud _clink_, sending Serapio onto his rear from the force of it.

He jumped to his feet, bewildered. He was free, but what was he? Leader, follower, what? From what he'd just witnessed, he had little to no chance of defeating Ruben in a hand to hand brawl. "So…are you the leader now, Ruben?"

Yadiro let out a harsh, scornful laugh. "First of all, I'm not Ruben. I am Yadiro Buitrago," he said with pride, the name rolling off his lips.

Serapio's puzzled expression deepened. Had the voice changed all of a sudden? "No, you're not! I know you and I know him—you were sent to spy on him."

"Things aren't always as they seem," Yadiro repeated, smiling cryptically. "Later I will explain. Come, we must defeat the other rebels and restore you to your rightful place."

He didn't wait for Serapio to respond, he took the stairs two at a time, bursting into the hallway next to the kitchen. Shouts and crashes told them that Mateo had arrived with help and they were taking care of business. Yadiro rushed down to the parlor where he'd left Rafael earlier, but it was empty.

Following the sounds of scuffling, he came upon Mateo grappling with Beto, who held him restrained on the floor trying to shove a thick sliver of door frame into Mateo's heart, yet unable to do so despite his best efforts. Mateo's leg swooped up, right into Beto's crotch; he gasped and fell aside. In the blink of an eye Mateo was up, drew his stake from his shirt, and plunged it deep into his foe. Beto, a look of astonishment on his face, fell forward with a crash and lay still.

Staggering to his feet, Mateo grumbled, "I really need you to teach me better fighting skills."

"You won," said Yadiro pragmatically.

"Barely—and thanks to Lucius' spell! He'd have gouged me with that chunk of wood otherwise. I'm going to see if anybody needs help." So saying, he spun and ran down the hall.

"We should search out the rest," suggested Yadiro to Serapio, who nodded dumbly. As evidenced by the sorrow in his face as he looked down at his ex-friend dead on the floor, his whole world was in turmoil.

Yadiro left the room, expecting Serapio to be close behind him. Serapio, for his part, gave one final glance at Beto, steeled himself, then headed out. He paused to tentatively enter a bedroom as he passed; finding it empty, he turned to go. All at once, Rafael flew down from the rafters and lunged at Serapio, kicking him in the back and knocking him sprawling on the floor.

Serapio rolled over and jumped up, not quick enough to avoid a bone-shattering blow to his jaw that sent him spinning against a trunk at the foot of the bed. He stumbled onto one knee; when his cousin approached he sprang forward to grab Rafael's leg, preventing the intended kick to the skull and setting Rafael off balance. Rafael fell heavily on his side, only to have Serapio snatch one wrist and wrench his arm up behind his back as he dug his knee into Rafael's spine, pinning him to the rug.

Cautiously moving his jaw from side to side and opening and closing his mouth, Serapio felt the bones reattaching and healing, though the pain hadn't abated. "I should kill you," he hissed.

"You don't have the guts," Rafael retorted. "Why do you think I had to take over? Because you're too weak willed to do what has to be done!"

"Starting a cult war isn't something that needs to be done!" Serapio barked, pressing so hard on the arm it snapped loudly.

Rafael let out a groan of agony, yet managed to grind out another deprecating remark. "You're pitiful. I should've murdered you a long time ago."

"Why didn't you? Too _weak willed_?"

The other actually laughed. "You wish! I needed you alive." He lay panting, seeming to drift off as his mind recalled a distant time, causing his eyes to register a fierce hatred. "Everybody always favored you—our grandparents, the town folk, our teachers, even the cult members! I really should've butchered you before we were brought into the fold, when you stole my sweetheart!"

"What? What are you babbling about?"

"Rosalinda was mine!" Rafael bellowed, struggling futilely with his as-yet unmended arm and finally resigning himself to his helplessness. "She loved me, I loved her, and you convinced her father to marry her to _you_! I'm glad we were turned before you got a chance to touch her, you filth!"

Stunned and flabbergasted by this revelation, Serapio gaped stupidly at his cousin. He _had_ set it up to marry Rosalinda, but never had Rafael breathed a word against it, nor given any indication he cared for the girl. How was he to know? "Why didn't you say anything?"

If Rafael could have shrugged in his position, he would have. "It wouldn't have made a difference. I asked her father for her hand before you did…he said no. I wasn't good enough, I was only the son of a farmer, but you were a _shoemaker_." He spat the word out like it was poison. "I knew then you'd always be a thorn in my side no matter what I did. Kill me, Serapio, because if you don't I'll come back and get you. I'd forgotten until now how much I truly despise you."

"Rafael," said Serapio in a voice so low it was scarcely audible. "That was so long ago. I meant you no harm, you should have known that. I don't want to harm my cousin."

"Ripping my heart out isn't harming me?" growled Rafael. "If it weren't for you, I'd have been home with my _wife_ Rosalinda instead of wandering the town aimlessly the night the _sangristas_ caught us. I wouldn't have been one of them, I'd be dead like I should be, _now kill me you son of a bitch!_"

Serapio looked up at the appearance of Yadiro in the doorway. How long he'd been there Serapio had no idea, but in two strides Buitrago was upon them. Without so much as a word Yadiro raised a stake clenched in his fist and buried it to the hilt in Rafael's chest. The overt animosity faded from the vampire's face, he exhaled loudly, and was dead.

"He wanted you to be the one," Yadiro explained as he pulled Serapio off his cousin. "He tried to guilt you into it, he wanted you to remember for eternity that you'd slain your own flesh and blood. I guess it was his form of revenge. That, and to keep us from staking him out to die in the sun."

Serapio could only bob his head weakly. What was he supposed to say? How could he thank Buitrago for doing away with a member of his family, one he'd loved all his life, who'd been a companion and friend from infancy? Even chained in the cellar, furious and hurt, he'd not stopped loving his cousin. Feeling like a babyish fool he turned away, roughly wiping at the sudden tears streaming down his cheeks.

It was a lie, it had to be…Rafael baited him to kill him, that's all. Either that or he'd been wrong about Rafael all those years, but how could he not have seen his true colors? Had Rafael truly hated him all these years, or had he only been trying to hasten his inevitable death by goading Serapio into it? Or was it a complicated mixture of everything, love and hate and jealousy intertwined driving him to what he'd become?

Yadiro bowed lightly out of habit and backed through the door. The fact that Rafael had to die aside, he understood Serapio's anguish for the loss of a loved one. It he'd been in the same situation, likely he'd have mixed feelings and raw emotion, too. There'd be time for discussion and explanations later; right now Montelongo needed time to grieve.

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Looking strikingly handsome in their new Christmas outfits, the Malfoy family Apparated into the foyer of the church they attended sporadically—that is, for Christmas, Easter, weddings, and funerals. Draco let out a loud disgruntled wail at the sensation of being squeezed through a pipe, but a gentle jostling in his father's arms soothed him quickly. Were it not for the notion that they'd soil themselves and their lovely robes, they'd have used the floo.

"Are we late?" asked Abraxas, appalled at the prospect. Malfoys were _never_ late…well, except Lucius on occasion, but seeing as that generally coincided with Death Eater activity, he chose to ignore it.

Lucius and Narcissa glanced around the empty foyer.

"I hope not," said Narcissa with a pointed glare at her husband.

"The schedule said ten o'clock," Lucius responded much more calmly than he felt. He pointed at the pocketwatch in his hand that read three minutes till ten. "It's not my fault Draco poops and pees every hour like clockwork and we have to change him. Blame him."

"He does not! You leave him alone!" Narcissa whispered fiercely, dragging Lucius by the arm toward the body of the church which looked to be quite full.

An usher came along to lead them to an open pew. Unfortunately, the only ones not crowded with people were at the very front, causing the Malfoys to practically trot alongside the usher as they traversed the entire length of the church with the congregation looking on. They settled themselves in and glimpsed about.

"I don't recognize anyone," Abraxas mentioned quietly with an odd note in his voice.

Lucius, under the guise of handing Draco to Narcissa on his other side, gave a cursory look around. He wrinkled his nose. What was with the clothes these people were wearing? Had they no sense of style? "I see the Weasleys and their army over there." He jerked a thumb across the aisle. It seemed more than peculiar that none of their acquaintances were here.

The next moment they were bid to stand and sing as the priest proceeded down the aisle. As he got closer, Lucius' stomach lurched. This wasn't the wizard priest who always presided at the services! Being that there were only two wizard priests in all of Britain, it seemed patently absurd to think they'd have moved the other one to this parish.

This couldn't be happening, he couldn't have got the time wrong. Okay, he _could_ have, what with the turmoil of a child to throw things off, but it was unlikely. He thought the schedule had read 'wizard mass at 10:00', but what if it had really said '_no_ wizard mass at 10:00'? Or had it said the wizard mass was at 8:00? He didn't remember, he'd checked it weeks ago…

Narcissa's insistent elbowing in his side was getting a bit annoying. He turned to her with a plastered-on smile. "Yes, dear?"

She leaned in close to his ear and clipped, "That's not our priest."

"Ah, so it isn't," Lucius agreed, facing forward, mind racing. If this wasn't their priest and their acquaintances were conspicuously absent while the Muggle-loving Weasleys were here, it could only mean one thing: they were in a Muggle service. For a second he had to concentrate on not throwing up. _Must not panic, it will upset Narcissa and Father_.

"Lucius!" hissed Abraxas, looking none too pleased. Apparently he'd figured it out as well. So much for not upsetting him. "I believe you got the wrong time."

"Should we leave?" asked his son.

As if in answer, the congregation all sat down, leaving the Malfoys standing. To leave now would be to parade themselves back down the aisle in front of all the vacuous, staring eyes of a crowd of imbecilic _Muggles_, causing a spectacle. Malfoys did not make spectacles of themselves, it was one of the Rules. As one, they dropped into the pew, utterly mortified. If anyone ever got wind of this, they'd never live it down!

For the next hour they stiffly, self-consciously went through the motions, all the while acutely aware of their horrendous situation. Narcissa hugged Draco so tightly to her he cried out in protest, kicking and squirming to be let down to crawl and drawing more attention upon them. She steadfastly ignored her husband who'd got them into this predicament, as did Abraxas; Lucius was grateful for the latter. Better ignored than smacked for incompetence, though that might be forthcoming when they got home. It was an honest mistake, for crying out loud! It wasn't as if he'd planned this joyous little excursion of being plunked down in the middle of a slew of drooling Muggles!

After the service they waited in their pew for the Muggle fold to file out, intending to sneak into the side wing and Apparate away lest they be accosted by any of the beasts.

Arthur Weasley, who'd noticed with interest the Malfoys—and who hadn't noticed?—came over as his family followed the crowd. "Happy Christmas, Lucius. You, too, Narcissa and Mr. Malfoy."

"Happy Christmas," they all mumbled back. They didn't look happy at all.

"I must admit I'm…_surprised_ to see you here," Arthur remarked, hoping for some sort of explanation, though not expecting one, not from the imperious Malfoy clan.

"That makes all of us, then," Abraxas announced in a tight lipped snit with another accusing glance at his son.

Lucius forced a smile that looked as forced as it felt. "Nice of you to stop by, Arthur, don't let us keep you."

He gave Narcissa a nudge and she walked to the far end of the pew, followed by Lucius and Abraxas. Together they slipped over into a corner and Disapparated, leaving behind nothing but a memory. Arrival home harbored no shelter for Lucius, who endured a prolonged upbraiding from his father and the cold shoulder from his wife. When the two went off to commiserate together with a cup of tea, Lucius stepped into the fireplace and floo'd to Spinner's End.

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"Stop that damned smirking," Lucius growled. He tossed back another swig of whiskey. For Muggle swill, it tasted surprisingly like firewhiskey.

Severus attempted to stop smirking, unsuccessfully. The whole idea of the Malfoys being surrounded by Muggles for a full hour with no means of escape was just too delicious. "Sorry, Lucius, but you brought it on yourself. Learn to pay attention. And I see you managed to escape unscathed."

"Humph!" snorted his friend. "Not if you count the humiliating hour-long lecture I got after church. My father was in fine form, let me tell you." Another swallow of whiskey. "Now neither of them is speaking to me."

"They'll get over it, though if you go home drunk I don't foresee anything beneficial in your future," drawled Snape as he capped the bottle and stowed it in the cabinet under the coffee table. He wondered briefly why mum had even kept any liquor in the house after dad quit drinking.

"Are you a fortune teller now, Severus? I wouldn't have thought," Lucius snapped.

"This is Christmas, Lucius. Stop with the self-pity and try to have a good time."

Just then Eileen came in from the kitchen with a plate of fresh baked cookies and a sliced fruitcake, which she set on the coffee table. "Lucius, have something to eat. In a little while the goose will be done, you're welcome to join us."

"Thank you, Mrs. Snape, it's very kind of you." When she merely stood there waiting expectantly, he picked up a slice of the cake to nibble on and raised his eyebrows. To his amazement, it was actually quite good. He'd have to get the recipe for the house elves.

"Mum, can we watch our program?" asked Justina as she and her twin trooped in from their room. Lucius noted with satisfaction that they were wearing the new robes the Malfoys had gifted to them. "Hi, Mr. Malfoy."

"Hello, Tina." Why did her salutation make him feel so old? He was tempted to ask her to call him 'Lucius' when a black box a couple of meters away flickered, brightened, and came to life; suddenly there were _people_ in it—talking and moving! His jaw dropped.

"Never seen a telly, huh?" Julius grinned. "He's just like Regulus."

"Am not," Lucius replied in what would have been a defensive tone had he not been so distracted and enthralled by this strange new magic…not to mention the effects of the alcohol catching up with him.

With his head buzzing from whiskey and a chunk of fruitcake in his hand, he settled back into the sofa to examine this beguiling new object called a 'telly'. Later he'd have Severus teach him this magic. This might turn out to be a great Christmas after all!


	81. Chapter 81

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-One

**Let us skip ahead 6 months to ****June 1981**

"What ha' yeh got there, young feller?"

Julius jumped half out of his skin at the booming voice directly behind him. How could someone so large approach so quietly? "Um…nothing." With one hand he covered the tiny creature he'd been playing with.

Hagrid lumbered around to face the boy, who was sitting alone on a rock by the lake. On such a beautiful day near the end of school when all the other students were enjoying themselves elsewhere, it seemed a bit suspicious. He knew this lad to be prone to mischief, all the teachers talked of him. "Yer sure?"

"Uh-huh." Sweat poured down Julius' temples and tears started in the corners of his eyes. _Go away, giant!_ He could barely keep his hand in place.

"Cuz I'd say from the looks of yeh that yeh got a toxitad under there. Stings like a b—…er, stings right nasty when 'e feels trapped."

Unable to resist any longer, Julius yanked his hand away to reveal a purple, three inch froglike amphibian with a stinger on its tadpole-like tail. His upturned palm revealed several swollen bumps where the animal had lashed out at him. Biting his lip, he looked up at Hagrid. "I was just playing, I wasn't trying to hurt him."

"I believe yeh, laddie," said Hagrid. "He's a pretty one, eh?"

Julius nodded. "I want to take him home."

"Oh, no! Can't let yer do that," commented the giant, scooping the squiggling animal into a massive fist. "Why, 'e'd scare the daylights outta yer sister."

Julius grinned wickedly.

"And 'e's dangerous." Hagrid pointed at the weals on the boy's hand. "You'll be needin' ter see Madame Pomfrey. I'll keep this critter with me; wouldn't want yeh getting' in no trouble."

Sensing the futility of argument, especially in light of his throbbing hand, Julius mumbled assent and started off toward the castle. Hagrid watched him go, recalling a time when he wasn't much older than the little Snape boy, when he'd had a pet of his own at Hogwarts. Had he realized at the time how large the spiders got, he probably wouldn't have kept Aragog in the castle, and Tom Riddle couldn't have accused him of being the one to set loose the vicious beast that killed Myrtle. He wouldn't have been expelled, he'd have been allowed to finish his education. Ah well, it was water under the bridge; it was done, there was no going back. Still, he wished at times that things had been different…

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Severus finished up the last of his potions, bottled and labeled them, and scrubbed out the cauldrons as he did every day. He tarried longer than usual at the sink, peering into the front room. Ever since Dumbledore had demanded that he apply for the teaching position as soon as it was announced, he'd had a vague, unsettled feeling while at work. Did Philana know he planned to leave? Had her friend Dumbledore told her? _Probably not, that might be too considerate, _he grumbled. And if not, shouldn't he let her know so she could find a replacement for him?

Hastily he wiped the excess water from the last of the cauldrons and tossed the dishcloth on the counter to dry. He hung the pot on one of the hooks in a row on the wall. He had to inform her, it was only right. Straightening up and shaking his potion-slick hair back from his face, he strode out to meet her.

"Philana, I have to tell you something."

"Yes, Severus?" She raised her face from the newspaper she was reading.

Why did she have to be so nice? _Just spit it out, get it over with._ "Remember last year I went to apply for a job at Hogwarts? Well, I never actually had an interview, but there's another post opening and I plan to try for it—please don't be upset."

"Why would I be upset?" asked Philana curiously. "If you get a job that pays better, I'm happy for you…although I'll miss you and I doubt I'll find anybody as good as you again," she added morosely. Alright, she was a teensy bit upset.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to cause you any problem," he apologized. "The interview is set for next month. If I get the job, it will start in September. I hope that's enough time to line up another person."

Philana patted his back in a motherly fashion. "Don't you worry, I'll get along fine. You're an exceptional young man, you deserve a whole lot more than working here."

_But I __like__ working here_, he moaned inwardly. "You're very kind." _Not that I deserve it._

"Go on home, Severus. I'll see you tomorrow," smiled the old woman.

"Thanks, Philana," he said softly and brushed past her. When he got outside, he Apparated into the back garden of Spinner's End. He entered into a quiet house—nothing unusual there with the kids still away at school—but it was dark. "Mum?"

No answer. Where could she be? He wandered through the downstairs, but she was nowhere to be found. The only things upstairs were his mother's room and a large closet, so he traipsed on up.

"Mum? Are you here?" Severus stepped into her bedroom and clicked on the light.

Eileen lay across her bed, ostensibly asleep, yet his voice and the bright light failed to rouse her. Rushing to her side, his heart in his mouth, he shook her shoulder, with no response save a low groan. In the harsh glare, the dark circles under her eyes looked all the more pronounced, making her seem downright cadaverous.

Wriggling his thin arm beneath her back, Severus hoisted his mother into a seated position and slipped his other hand under her knees. As scrawny as he was, it appeared almost comical to imagine him lifting her into his arms, yet in one smooth move that's exactly what he did, as effortlessly as if he were picking up a small child.

He Apparated them downstairs, hurried outside on trembling legs, and Apparated to St. Mungo's.

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Whirling his wife around the dance floor of the ballroom, Lucius dipped her low, raised her back up, and planted a kiss on her perfect little mouth. Narcissa, smiling in amusement, kissed him back with one hand behind his head twisting in his lovely locks to hold him steady. Within moments the waltz was forgotten and they stood there snogging like teenagers, complete with not-so-innocent groping.

"This is sooo much more fun than that waltz we had to do at our coming of age parties," murmured Lucius into her ear, then moved down to smothering her neck with smooches while his hand slid up to cup her breast.

"Oh, get a room!" barked Bella in her wonderfully caustic tone from somewhere right behind them.

Lucius lowered his hand and glared at her, then sneered, "What's wrong, Bella, are you jealous?"

Gobsmacked at his audacity, Bella stared open mouthed at him, sputtering for words. _She_ jealous of _him_—or did he mean she was hoping to be in her sister's place, sucking face with that annoying blond prat? The very notion set her teeth on edge, and she shuddered.

"You wish," she sniped weakly, her face reddening. Even to her that sounded uncharacteristically pathetic.

She was saved from further embarrassment by Rodolphus wandering over with a glass of punch and a plate of chocolate cake. "Figured I may as well get some more before we go. Did you want some, Bella?"

She didn't, but it was better than chatting up blondie. "Yes, please."

Together they walked off to one of the tiny tables surrounding the dance floor. Lucius snickered in a wholly satisfied manner. Not only had he caught the Troll Maiden from Hell off guard and got in a good shot, she hadn't even attempted to hex him to her homeland of Hades and back.

"Don't you two ever stop bickering?" asked Narcissa, who was still encased in her husband's embrace, her cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him.

Poised to defend himself, Lucius began, "Ye—" then in a deflated voice he admitted, "No, not really. She's bossy, vindictive, obnoxious—"

"I don't need a rundown of Bella's faults, thank you," said Narcissa with a disarmingly sweet…or was it _deceptively_ sweet smile. No doubt if Lucius persisted in this line of conversation he'd get more than he bargained for.

Failing to sense the danger brewing in the air, Lucius plunged headlong into forbidden territory by remarking, "I'm amazed to see her here with Rodolphus. I'd think she'd be off boinking the dark lord…" His sentence petered out at the expression of irritation flaming in his wife's eyes. "I only meant Lord Voldemort might resent Bella playing around with Rodolphus." As proof of his accusation, he pointed unobtrusively at the couple who were at the moment playing kissy face in between bites of cake. That _anyone_ would care to snog the wench was beyond him.

"Rodolphus is her husband," Narcissa reminded him. Her icy tone clearly said to drop the subject, and for once he listened to the tone.

"I wonder why Severus didn't show up. He said he'd be sure to be here on his godson's birthday."

"I was wondering the same," Narcissa replied. They'd begun to sway to the music again with Lucius' hands resting on her waist. When they slipped down to her bum and squeezed, she giggled. "The party's been over for half an hour and not so much as an owl."

Lucius' grey eyes swept over the huge room that all afternoon had hosted dozens of families here to celebrate his son's first birthday. As evening fell, they'd taken their leave one by one until only Bella and Rodolphus remained, not counting the birthday boy himself, who was curled up beside Abraxas on a leather couch in the balcony. Or more aptly, Draco was sprawled across his adoring grandfather's lap, sleeping.

No, it wasn't like Severus to miss this without an explanation. He'd been at work, most likely, but he'd promised to come afterward. Had the dark lord called him? Lucius hoped not. Little or nothing good ever came of that.

"I'll send him an owl," said Lucius at last. "For now, my lady, let's dance."

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"Severus?" Eileen said hoarsely as she tried feebly to sit up.

"I'm here, mum," answered the young man, springing to his feet and hurrying to her side. He took her hand, which felt ice cold. "You scared me there."

Her features projecting only love for her firstborn, she squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Don't tell the twins, I don't want to worry them."

Severus wasn't sure what to say. In a few days the kids would be home from school, they'd want to know where their mother was. The doctors had already informed him that Eileen wouldn't be going home any time soon…and perhaps not at all. It seemed the most expedient route was to ignore her plea altogether and change the subject.

"The medi-wizard in charge told me you haven't been coming to your appointments all month, and you missed more before that."

Eileen bobbed her head slightly. "That's true. You know how sick it makes me, and I couldn't tolerate it."

"Why didn't you tell me? I can make different potions."

"Severus," she said in a tone of utter solemnity. "I can feel the end is coming, and I'd prefer to live out the time I have left without drugs or doctors or poking and prodding. It doesn't help anymore."

"But…we need you," pleaded the young man.

"I can't do it any longer. I'm sorry." Tears began to course down her cheeks. "I'm so tired of fighting, Severus, so very tired. I don't want to leave the three most precious people in the world, but there comes a point when it's just too hard to keep fighting a losing battle. I'm not as strong as you. I'm sorry."

Severus bent down to clasp his mother to his chest, holding her while she wept, his own silent tears dripping off his chin into her hair. It wasn't fair—it wasn't _fair_! Why was everything in his life skewed against him? His school years had been a nightmare of bullyish hell. His father had finally given up the despicable whiskey that made him an ogre, only to die shortly after becoming a decent man. His grandparents were either Muggle arseholes or pureblood bigots who, while loving their grandchildren, were hardly role models. He'd pledged himself as bootlicker to the masters of both the light and dark sides of the war. And now his mother, the one person who'd held the family together, who helped ground him, was poised to leave.

Eileen had calmed down enough to speak coherently. "Severus, when the time comes, I need you to look after Julius and Justina."

"I can't, they need _you_," he choked out.

"Promise me you'll protect and guide them," she went on as if she hadn't heard him.

"You know I will."

"And you'll let them know they're loved." For a moment her voice faltered, then she resumed. "They need that."

Severus nodded more to placate her than anything, though she couldn't see him from her position. "I'll do my best."

"Let them visit my parents during the summer, but make sure to keep Julius in line. I couldn't bear knowing he'd gone astray."

"I will, mum." His arms tightened even more like a vise around her. "I promise." Biting his lower lip so hard it bled, he began to cry softly against her.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

It was a sultry evening; the wind whipping the five Death Eaters' robes had a balminess to it that didn't lend the calmness one might suppose. They waited outside as per orders, some stock still, others fidgeting either anxiously or excitedly, none sure why they'd been summoned, none of them occupied with something as mundane as the weather.

Inside the castle, Voldemort had ascended his throne to await Rosier, a young man whose intelligence may be only average, but whose aptitude and gusto for assaulting Muggles was becoming legendary among the Death Eaters. The dark lord hadn't time to become bored sitting there. As expected, in short order Rosier came creeping in beside Bella and prostrated himself, his robes splayed about him, his mask gripped tightly in one fist.

"My lord, thank you for seeing me. I did as you requested, I found a worthy soul who shares our ideals."

"I will decide if he is worthy, Evan," Voldemort corrected him, rising with a corresponding rise of anticipation. He absolutely loved this part, the examining of a new member, plunging into their brains and sifting their thoughts like chaff, making them quake—nay, cower—before him. It gave him an ethereal satisfaction matched only by torturing those deserving of it. When the two combined, it was practically orgasmic.

Leaving Rosier kneeling on the stone floor, he brushed past with an expectant glance at Bella. Her lusty, painted lips curled upward in a lazy smirk, perfectly complimenting the wolfish glimmer in her eyes. She exited the room, only to return summarily with a boy of barely seventeen whose straw colored hair looked as if it hadn't been brushed in ages, though likely it was the wind's doing.

Uncertain as to what he should do, the boy knelt as he saw Rosier doing, then he bowed his head. His body trembled visibly, undoubtedly from fear, which wafted up to the dark lord as a twisted votive offering.

"What is your name, boy?"

"B-Barty Crouch, sir—my lord," squeaked the lad.

"Why have you come to me?"

"To fight for pureblood honor and supremacy," answered Crouch, growing a bit more confident.

Not willing to let that confidence stand, Voldemort remarked, "Could you not do that on your own?"

This wasn't in the script he'd studied! Mind racing, Barty replied, "I want to rally behind a leader who stands for us and our cause."

"Or is it that you desire power, young Crouch?" pressed Voldemort as he moved in closer to bend down and stare the boy in the face, which he'd found to be one of the most intimidating poses available.

"I-I—no, sir. I mean, only if that's what _you_ wish," sputtered Crouch, entirely out of his element. He was good at book learning and at regurgitating facts and spells, he'd had little practice at thinking on his feet where the stakes were high. Here, now, in front of a frighteningly powerful wizard, he felt completely devoid of the ability to think clearly.

Voldemort relieved him of the need to do so by grasping his chin and dragging him to his feet. His red eyes locked with Crouch's terrified blue orbs, delving instantly into the youth's innermost thoughts, charging through without qualm or sanction. When he was finished, he dropped Crouch's chin and stepped off a bit.

"Bellatrix, what do you think of this one?"

Thrilled to be included in the process, Bella promptly hustled over to Barty, who was only now regaining his senses. She circled him twice, very slowly, examining him as if he were prey, musingly pursing her lips. Noticing the way he tensed up, she sneered, though it pleased her.

She'd love to taunt him, but first things first. "Will you pledge your life to the cause and to fulfilling all the master's wishes to the letter?"

Barty gulped. That was a huge request, but if Evan could do it, so could he. Evan had said the dark lord treated his Death Eaters like his own children, teaching them, guiding them…and punishing them on occasion. The only difference between that and his real father was that Crouch, Sr. paid virtually no attention to his son _unless_ to punish him. At least this way he'd have a paradigm he could look up to, one who'd help him bring blood purity back where it belonged.

"I will."

"How many Muggles have you killed?" she demanded.

"Uh, none yet," Barty answered. Surely this wouldn't jeopardize his chances!

"Tortured?"

"No, ma'am," he sighed, his face falling. Rosier hadn't told him he needed experience! But wait, he had experience! "I've played around with light torture at Hogwarts," he offered hopefully.

Bella's eyes took on a glint of surprised admiration. "Well, it's a start. I think we could turn him into a worthy Death Eater, master," she pronounced as her verdict.

Voldemort smiled. "As do I. I've seen the workings of his mind, he could become quite an asset with that intelligence and willingness to do what must be done. Take him outside. Evan, go with them."

Those waiting in the semi-circle instantly noticed the three approaching from the castle, and they straightened. Bella took her usual spot, Rosier crowded over at the other end, leaving Crouch in the middle to be gawked at by hungry eyes beneath masks. Was this boy an offering to them for their service? Were they permitted to abuse him as they saw fit? No one dared do a thing without authorization.

When the dark lord made his appearance, as one they fell to their knees. Once more clueless as to how to behave and sticking out like a sore thumb, Barty dropped to the ground. His eyes followed each footstep of the master until he'd halted right in front of Barty.

"My friends, tonight we celebrate an addition to our ranks." A light murmur of approval ran through the Death Eaters. Crouch's stomach flipped giddily—he'd been accepted! "As a sign of his undying devotion to myself and the cause, I will mark him as my own just as I did with each of you."

Voldemort took out his wand. "Extend your left arm."

Crouch pushed up his sleeve and did as commanded. The tip of the wand touching his flesh was worse than any pain he'd ever felt, and Barty's screams echoed across the empty landscape. In his agony he didn't remember exactly what had happened, only that his arm now throbbed horribly and he was curled in a ball whimpering. Slowly he unfolded himself and looked at his forearm. There it was, the Dark Mark! He was one of them, truly one of them!

Barty got to his knees, bowing low at Voldemort's feet. "Thank you, master! I'll be your most faithful servant!"

Bella cleared her throat snarkily, yet said nothing. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Voldemort, whose red eyes rested on his pet. Crouch could never take her place as much as he might try.

"Rise, Crouch. Tonight I have a assignment for you. You will be accompanying this group on their mission into the Ministry of Magic—Department of Magical Law Enforcement, to be precise."

Everyone caught their breath, though no one's heart leaped into his throat except Barty. His father headed that department! If they were caught—

"Is there a problem, Barty?" asked Voldemort in the kindest voice he could stomach. He'd anticipated some resistance at this point, resistance that must not be tolerated.

"No, my lord, I—this is perfect!" glowed the boy, grinning from ear to ear. This was the ideal opportunity to not only defy his father in a grand way, but at the same time please his new master. "What is our mission?"

"We know the names of many of the aurors," said Voldemort, genuinely astounded at how enthusiastically Barty responded to his duty, even when it went against his father. "There exist, however, a faction of undercover aurors. I want a list of them."

"If it's there, I'll find it!" promised Barty fervently.

"_We'll_ find it," Bella interjected. "I'm in charge. With your permission, my lord, I'll instruct the troops and we'll be going."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

They Apparated back to the castle, a sullen, disheartened group. The break-in had been relatively easy: floo into the Ministry, take the lift to the proper floor, and blow apart the door—a part of the plan that hadn't proved necessary, for Barty had suggested passwords his father might employ, the name of his wife being the one they sought. The door swung open for them.

They'd rifled through every cabinet, every drawer, every folder in the place, to no avail. If a list of these aurors existed, it wasn't here. Deciding they'd better leave before being discovered, Bella had ordered them to use organizing spells to return everything to its place, and they'd gone out the way they'd come.

As the other Death Eaters filed into the castle, Barty sank to his knees in the dirt outside, his new mask crinkled in one clenched fist as he bowed his head and began to weep. It wasn't supposed to happen like that, he was supposed to prove his devotion and he'd failed. Now the dark lord would never trust him again, he wouldn't instruct or guide him, he might not even want him to be a Death Eater! The notion made him break out in wrenching sobs.

"What's your problem?" Bella inquired, thumping him in the back with her foot. "Afraid of a spot of punishment?"

Crouch shook his head roughly as he struggled to control himself. He lifted a tearstained face to the woman. "I wanted to please him. What if he doesn't let me be a Death Eater anymore?"

"I see little danger of that," said Bella dryly. "You're new, he didn't expect much of you—this time. But if you don't get in there, you'll find out what it's like to rouse his ire."

The youth got up, wiped his face, and ran into the castle with Bella not far behind, smiling to herself. Yes indeed, this boy was a good choice. Finally, someone with his priorities in the right place!


	82. Chapter 82

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-Two

**July 1981**

Eileen's funeral went as well as any Snape function could be expected to go. No one broke into a fistfight, duel, or any other pugnacious endeavor; the service started on time, ran its course, and finished without any major meltdowns. Tina and Julius sniffled quietly in their seats, but overall Severus was grateful for the solemn dignity of the ceremony. Mum would have been pleased.

A lump rising in his throat was vehemently shoved down. He would _not_ bare his emotions to the world, come hell or high water. "Grandpa, thank you for holding the reception here," he murmured, gesturing around at the Prince estate.

"Severus, Eileen is my daughter. If you hadn't brought it up first, I would have insisted," the older man assured him as he wrapped an arm around Severus' shoulders. The boy needed to eat more, he was pure skin and bones.

"Mum asked me if the kids could spend time here every summer when school lets out," he hedged. "If it's an imposition, I understand."

"My grandchildren are not an imposition, young man," answered Mr. Prince in a mock-stern tone. "We'd love to have all of you as often as possible. And the kids aren't babies who have to be watched every minute, they're twelve years old, we'll find something to occupy them."

Severus nodded. He tried to smile but it wouldn't come. Across the yard he saw the Malfoys talking to the twins. Abraxas had transfigured something into a bench and was sitting next to Justina, who suddenly leaned against him, her face on his chest, and appeared to be crying. Severus had just determined he'd better go save the wizard when Abraxas draped a consoling arm over her back and began to stroke her hair as his lips moved in words Severus couldn't hear. The respect and affection he felt for the man doubled in a heartbeat.

Nearby, Narcissa and Lucius were watching over Draco while Julius knelt down playing with the tiny child. It wrenched his heart. Jacinta should be here for her grandmother…for her father. At that moment Lucius looked up, his eyes locking with his friend's, and he smiled sadly as if to echo Severus' thoughts.

"Do you still hate them, grandpa?"

Mr. Prince followed his grandson's gaze to the Malfoys. He noted the kindness being shown his grandchildren, and he sighed. "I have no right to hate them anymore. Eileen forgave Abraxas decades ago, and my wife and I should've done the same. Without Tobias we wouldn't have you kids; without Abraxas, you'd be dead. I wasted so many years on pettiness."

Severus ducked out from under the older wizard's arm. "I'm going in to see grandma. She shouldn't be alone so long."

He traversed the porch and looked back at the guests, then steeled himself to greet the bereaved woman, who'd fallen to pieces upon her only daughter's death. Severus couldn't blame her; if anything happened to Jacinta, he feared his own hold on sanity might be seriously compromised. With any luck, having her grandchildren here for the rest of the summer would bring some happiness back to her tainted life. He felt sure it would do him and his siblings good.

He hadn't been with Mrs. Prince very long before there was a light knock on the doorframe. They both looked over at a very pregnant Glenna, who was holding on to a squirming Jacinta by one hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you. May I come in?"

Severus got to his feet and crossed the room in three strides, his expression one of concerned bewilderment. "Is everything alright?" Automatically he reached down for the little girl, who smiled as she held out her arms to him with a jubilant cry of 'Unco Zeb!' He nuzzled his face in her hair and she giggled.

"Yes—I mean, I'm very sorry for your loss, both of you," Glenna said. She hesitated, biting her lip, then lurched forward to hug him, feeling him tense at the unexpected contact. She pulled away before he had time to get his bearings. "Jack is outside, he wanted to offer his condolences, too."

"Thank you." He'd forgotten how radiant she was when she was pregnant. Severus avoided her gaze as he studied his daughter, who was gleefully running her hands through his hair, then through her own, oblivious to what had happened. She was barely two years old, all this commotion meant nothing to her. Would she ask where 'Gamma' was? And how would he answer her? "Thank you for coming, for bringing Jacinta."

Mrs. Prince had joined her grandson at the door to the study. "I concur with Severus' sentiments, Glenna. It's kind of you to come."

"I always liked Eileen," Glenna answered honestly. "She was wonderful with Jacinta. I thought it would be only right to…" She didn't finish. Her daughter had kicked and fussed her way to the floor out of Severus' arms and was trotting toward the fireplace in search of mischief.

Mrs. Prince took out her wand to cast a protective spell around every dangerous object in the room, beginning with the fireplace poker, then she turned back to the young woman. "When are you due, my dear?"

"August 8," said Glenna, patting her girth. "I can't wait."

"Would you mind leaving Jacinta with me—and Severus, of course—for the night? I'm sure you could use the rest."

Taken aback that this woman would be worried over her at such a time, Glenna nodded, barely controlling her hormonally enhanced emotions. "If you're sure she won't be too much nuisance. I'll go tell Jack."

"I'll come with you," said Severus.

He kissed his grandmother and left the room with Glenna. His earlier conversation with grandpa had enlightened him to what mum had tried to tell him innumerable times: wasting years on pettiness between himself and Jack wasn't helpful to anyone, especially his daughter. He may as well gracefully accept Jack's condolences, maybe even offer congratulations on their child. They'd been friends once. Who knows, they might actually carve out a relationship, if not of friendship, at least devoid of animosity. Jacinta deserved that much, and so much more.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Abraxas had been atypically quiet since returning to Malfoy Manor. Moreover, he seemed reluctant to let go of Draco, which in itself wasn't unusual. He positively adored the tot and spent much of his free time talking and playing with him, something he hadn't done much of with his own children. No, it was something different. While tending to the solemn side as a rule, he looked morose now—which shouldn't be surprising, having come from a funeral. Yet it worried Lucius. Depressed people were known to take drastic measures at times; he had guilt issues over Eileen. What if he were contemplating suicide?

Not that Lucius would want anyone to _know_ he was worried, of course. Young men didn't fret over their fathers' state of mind, it wasn't…what would the term be? Appropriate…no. Cool? He flushed and grinned sheepishly. As a pureblood, he rightfully shouldn't even be familiar with that Muggle slang—it was Severus' fault!

Nonetheless, whatever the term for his concern, he felt doubly uneasy as he approached stealthily behind the man, who stood holding Draco at the brink of the balcony adjoining his library. A broad expanse of Malfoy land lay exposed to them, green and lush, covered with gardens and trees. When Abraxas began moving the boy from the safety of his arm to the front of his chest, Lucius' heart froze in his own chest. It looked as if Draco was perched right over the banister!

"What is it, Lucius?" Abraxas hadn't even turned around.

_How the hell does he do that?_ the young man grimaced, striding forward quickly to stand beside his father. He reached a hand over to drape snugly around Draco's waist. "You seem rather distracted, Father. I thought I'd perhaps take my son, get him out of your hair."

Abraxas yanked the lad free and switched him over to his other arm, then looked quizzically at his son. It wasn't like Lucius to be solicitous, or even particularly aware of other people's emotions. Then the odd, almost frightened expression emanating from Lucius struck him; understanding dawned and his countenance grew dark with a mixture of indignation and horror. "Good heavens, Lucius! Did you think I'd actually harm my own grandson?"

_In case you didn't notice, you are standing precariously close to the edge of the balcony_ flitted through Lucius' brain, yet he had enough presence of mind not to utter it. "No, Father, of course not."

"I would die for this boy," the older man went on, obviously quite put out. Draco, not understanding the conversation but picking up on Abraxas' affront, sent a pouting glare at Lucius as his arms wrapped around Abraxas' neck. His grandfather patted his back reassuringly.

"Did I accuse you of something?" Lucius retorted.

"Not in so many words."

_Tread carefully, Malfoy_, he warned himself. He couldn't deny that his father was right, he had—_for a moment_—feared for Draco. He couldn't lie convincingly to his father, all these years had proven that much, nor apparently could he dance around the issue between them. "May I ask why you're out here? It's not exactly one of your regular haunts."

"If one were to ask my idiot son, I'm out here to throw my only grandchild to his death!" snapped Abraxas, looking like he wanted to slap some sense into Lucius' blond head.

Lucius flushed and growled, "Can we get off that now? You look depressed, I made a fleeting, ridiculous misinterpretation of what I saw, can we drop it?" He paused for a second and went on, "It's not unheard of for people in a depressed state to do…things, and I—"

"I thought you wanted to drop it," Abraxas interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "As for why I'm out here, see for yourself." He pointed to a not-so-distant plot of land where several tall, carved headstones were clearly visible. The family cemetery.

It all made perfect sense. Naturally today's events would get the elder Malfoy thinking of his own family, of all the tragedy and death he'd endured with his mother, his wife, his eldest son, his daughter, and his granddaughter. He had a lot to be sad about, which accounted for his melancholy. Clinging to his grandson reminded him that there was still joy in life, a reason for life.

"Father, I'm sorry. I didn't really believe you'd hurt Draco, I just—it seemed a bit suspicious." He felt so incredibly stupid! In a small voice he added, "He's my life."

"I know, son," responded Abraxas, clapping him on the back. "You love him so much you grow paranoid, I can't say I fault you for it. A father ought to protect his child."

Lucius, believing himself an utter fool, backed up to go. He _must_ be getting paranoid, and it wasn't a good feeling, not when it involved mistrusting the one man who loved Draco as much as he and Narcissa did. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then." He spun hurriedly, wanting to escape any reproach to come. He had enough to dish out on himself.

"Lucius." The young man halted warily, expecting the tirade to begin. "Won't you stay and have tea with me? I'd like your company."

Lucius turned around slowly. "You're not going to berate me?"

Abraxas shook his head, grinning.

"In that case, I'd love to."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Dumbledore, you promised me the Defense Against the Dark Arts position!" argued Severus, his brow furrowed in anger. It was bad enough he was being coerced into teaching a bunch of mind numbed cretins, but to teach them a complex subject like _potions_? Why didn't Dumbledore ask him to roll buck naked through a bin of razor blades? It would be less painful!

"I didn't promise, Severus, I merely alluded to the fact that the job would become available," responded the Headmaster calmly as he dug through his candy dish for a cherry gumdrop. As much as he liked lemon, at times he craved something else.

"Why did you bother if you knew you were going to stick me in Potions?"

"What have you got against Potions?" inquired Dumbledore, triumphantly snatching the red candy from the sea of multi-colors. "You're an excellent potions master."

Severus watched him pop the sweet into his mouth and roll it around. How did he get such pleasure from a blasted piece of candy? "I happen to love potion making, which is why I resent being placed there. As a student, I had to witness the incompetence and sheer stupidity of innumerable other students who were not only inept, but hopelessly incapable of the slightest degree of aptitude for the subject or ability to follow directions. It was excruciating to behold, and now you want me to sit in that classroom hour after hour, day after day, accepting the tripe they pass off as 'potions'?" He had to stop his rant to breathe deeply, as he was becoming a bit light headed.

"Now Severus, you're being a tad melodramatic, don't you think?" The old man's eyes twinkled over his glasses, and for a split second Snape was tempted to ram a finger right into one of those damned sparkling orbs.

He scowled and the frown on his forehead deepened into a veritable groove. "I do _not_ think I'm being melodramatic, I'm being realistic."

"Then I imagine you'll want to make sure to teach the students to do a better job."

_Excuse me? What part of 'sheer stupidity', 'inept', and 'hopelessly incapable' were unclear?_ He heaved a discouraged breath. It did as much good to debate Dumbledore now as it had when he was a student, that being _none_. The Headmaster had made up his mind, there was no remedy for it. He was, henceforth, Professor Snape, Potions teacher. At least Lord Voldemort would be pleased with the assignment, since he shared that trait in common with Dumbledore—lack of concern for Snape's desires.

Severus rose from his chair, bowing stiffly to the older man. "I will utilize every tool at my disposal, but I am not Helen Keller's nurse, I can't create geniuses from lumps of barely sentient flesh."

"I don't expect miracles, my boy, though it wouldn't hurt to try a bit of patience," said Dumbledore sagely.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'll give it the utmost consideration." _When pigs fly and cockroaches dance the Charleston!_

He stomped out in the direction of his quarters and his classroom. May as well begin putting protective spells in place now so the little 'darlings' didn't explode the castle on the first day. While he was at it, he'd better charm the boys' dormitory to prevent female students from entering. The girls' dormitory had evidently been charmed to keep boys out from the time of Salazar Slytherin himself, but it didn't stop girls from sneaking over to see the boys, as he knew from his own experience with Glenna. Let them all hate him, he didn't care. At least he'd keep the pregnancy rate down!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

**August 1981**

"Nobody knows except us," Sirius whispered into the dark as the two walked away from Godric's Hollow. The other, a lumpish, rounded figure, bobbed his head in agreement. "It's better this way. Voldemort would expect me to be the one, everybody knows me and James are practically brothers."

"But Dumbledore thinks you're the Secret-Keeper," Peter whined in a pitiful attempt at argument. "Won't he get upset if you can't tell where the Potters are?"

"Dumbledore knows where they are, remember? He wouldn't be asking me. And I think it's best if we don't tell Remus."

"How come?" Peter's beady eyes widened.

Sirius shrugged and threw his back up against a tree in the wooded patch where they'd paused to converse. "Somebody is letting information leak out, and that somebody has to be an Order member."

Pettigrew sucked in a terrified breath, which was interpreted by Black as shock.

"I know, it disgusts me, too. I'm just not so sure we can trust Moony anymore. Promise not to tell him." Sirius peered at Peter, who nodded dumbly. Satisfied, he relaxed a bit. Now even if the Death Eaters somehow managed to capture him, he couldn't rat out his best friend. And who would ever suspect timid little Peter of being chosen as Secret-Keeper? He felt so unburdened he let out a laugh. "Come on, Wormtail, let's go have a drink."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Peter paced the confines of his flat for the hundredth time, wringing his hands and moaning to himself. Why had Sirius insisted on making him Secret-Keeper? Didn't he realize that now Peter was compelled to tell the dark lord? _Of course he doesn't, you moron! He'd never sell out his friends that way!_

But Voldemort could read his mind, he'd know Peter had a secret, and he'd punish him horribly again. He feared Voldemort and the Cruciatus more than he feared Black. He'd already stalled around for nearly a month without contacting the dark lord about this vital development; how long dared he wait? If he postponed it any longer, more people would die as the Death Eaters continued to search for Harry. So many had already died because of that prophecy and Harry.

Pettigrew groaned as he dropped into a kitchen chair. He should've let Voldemort kill him when he was captured at the very first. Failing that, he ought to have gone to Dumbledore…but would he have believed him with the Dark Mark pulsing on his arm? Probably not, Bella was right about that. And as for letting himself be killed, he valued his life too much for that, so it wasn't a viable option.

It—this whole horrid situation, the tortures and murders and mayhem afflicting their world—was because of baby Harry. Sure, it had started before him, but it continued because he couldn't be found. If he died, Lily and James could have more children, they'd still be a happy family, only the war would finally end with Voldemort as victor. Would that be so bad? Purebloods had run the wizarding world for centuries and had done a fine job of it, so why should anyone complain if they re-took their rightful place? Look at how many lives would be saved by ending it now!

He'd made his decision then: sacrifice Harry for the sake of many others. It was awful, but sometimes awful things had to be done to achieve the right ends. This needed to be done for the greater good. Before he could change his mind again, he ran outside and Disapparated.

Coming to a brisk halt at seeing Bellatrix, Peter shuddered. The very presence of the woman intimidated him, and the fact that she'd personally tortured him more than once didn't help.

"What do you want?" she asked with that imperious glare that made him feel like a leper.

"I have information for the dark lord," Peter answered, throwing back his shoulders. "Very important information."

Bella sneered. "Like what?"

"Like I'm not telling _you_, I'm only telling _him_," retorted Peter. "I won't let you take the credit."

Still sneering, Bella rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She hoped Lord Voldemort was in a bad mood, she'd like to see the rat squirm. Maybe he'd even let her have a go.

Peter entered an empty room, but was met shortly by Voldemort, who waited for him to make his obeisance before ordering him to impart his news.

"Master, I've been made Secret-Keeper to the Potters' location. I know where they are!"

With his head bowed as he knelt humbly on the chilly floor, Peter didn't see Voldemort's jaw drop like a simpleton, or see the cold, cruel smile of triumph cross his face. He did hear the gleeful laugh that followed, and it made his stomach churn with revulsion and self-loathing.


	83. Chapter 83

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-Three

**September 1981**

It was the first day of class—the _very_ first day of class for Severus, to be precise…well, as a teacher anyway. He felt edgy in a way he never had as a student, what with the idea of all those urchins staring at him. He didn't like to be stared at, it reminded him of student days when staring preceded teasing. Dumbledore had mumbled something to the effect that he'd feel this way, but he hadn't really been listening attentively, he was busy obsessing over his new duties not only as Professor but as Head of House of Slytherin.

He shrugged on his black outer robe and spun around in front of the mirror, admiring the way it billowed almost menacingly. He grinned, then quickly made his features blank. It wouldn't do to let the dunderheads see him smile, it might wreck his credibility as a hard ass, a reputation which he'd need as the leader of the Slytherins. Respect had to be earned on that front, something he'd begun last night with his scathing lecture on the rules to the firsties and an additional severe address to the older children. If he hadn't been compelled to clean up the mess when one of the first years wet himself from fear, he'd have considered it a roaring success.

His quarters being very near the Potions classroom, it took him only a minute to cover the distance, arriving just late enough that everyone should be present and seated. Naturally, the pesky brats had other ideas. The dungeon room teamed with youngsters, many of them standing idly about, chatting brainlessly.

At the slamming of the door so hard it actually rocked on its hinges, heads turned and students jumped for their seats as Severus stalked slowly up the middle aisle scowling. His robes undulated about him like a sea of ink, accentuating the nearly vampire-like pale of his skin.

"Is this or is it not a second year class?" he drawled in a silky tone, whirling dramatically at the front of the room to face them.

Most of the heads bobbed, some murmured assent.

"Why, then, must I instruct you to be in your seats and silent when class begins?" He thought his tone sufficiently caustic to discourage any response. It was a rhetorical question, after all. Thus, he was thoroughly surprised to hear a voice—an impudent _familiar_ voice—off to his right.

"We didn't figure you'd be like Slughorn."

The chilly air dropped several degrees. Severus turned so slowly he hardly appeared to move at all until he finally faced the direction of the insolence, his black eyes shooting sparks. "_Professor_ Slughorn, Mr. Snape," he growled barely audibly so the other students leaned forward, bug-eyed, to hear.

"How come you don't call me Julius, Severus?" asked the boy a bit too flippantly, holding a smirk in check. He knew blasted well _why_, Severus had gone over this with him and Tina yesterday! Severus couldn't show favoritism, but he'd be damned if he'd show leniency either. Lest he appear weak in the eyes of his students, he could not let this incident pass—as if he had any inkling of an inclination to do so.

Severus had two choices: drag his brother off by the earlobe and shake the fear of God into him in private _or_ make an example of him so all the students would tremble at the thought of disobedience or defiance in his classroom. He predictably chose option two. Rather than answer him outright, the man thought a demonstration in order.

He crossed his arms over his thin chest and glowered at his brother. "What did I instruct you to call me?"

"Professor or sir," answered Julius, not liking the intimidating pose and beginning to regret opening his mouth.

"You belong in my House, Mr. Snape. I dare say if I take points off for cheek, your Slytherin companions will not be amused."

As if concurring, the band of Slytherins around Julius turned furious glares the boy's way. Julius sank a bit on his stool. Losing points for Slytherin traditionally earned the offender a beating at the hands of his House mates. The lad thought it safe to presume Severus would conveniently be nowhere in sight when said beating took place, nor liable to punish those responsible.

The boy swallowed hard and piped up, "I'm sorry, Professor."

"So you don't forget, two hundred lines of 'I will respect my Professors' will be due tomorrow morning. Failure to comply will result in the loss of fifty points and a month of detention." His annoyed gaze traveled over the rest of the class; it tickled him to note apprehension written on their obnoxious little faces. "Perhaps now we can get to the task at hand—_potions_."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

If it weren't enough that all day long he'd had to endure nitwits either bent on creating new biological weapons or trying to blow up half the dungeon with their so-called potions, Severus walked into the Slytherin common room for his before-bed inspection to find Barty Crouch proudly showing off his Dark Mark to two enthralled boys hovering near him. The rest of the room was empty.

"Mr. Crouch, my office. Now." Snape whirled to storm out, expecting the teenager to follow. He could scarcely wrap his head around that one—the repulsive toad had become a Death Eater!

"What for?" came Barty's snide tone.

Severus turned his head only far enough to see the other two boys gaping, waiting to see what would happen, while Barty merely pushed himself up off the couch. Snape turned fully around, livid.

Teeth clenched, Severus said stonily, "I have given you an order and you will obey me. I highly doubt you've forgotten what I'm capable of."

A shadow of dread passed over Barty's face. He hadn't forgotten. Pursing his lips in a defiant pout, he jerkily headed for the door.

"You both get to bed," advised Snape to the other boys. He pursued Crouch down the corridor to his office, making sure to secure the door and throw out a silencing charm to ward off prying ears.

Slouching with arms crossed, Barty demanded, "What'd I do?"

"Lack of obedience and respect for starters," answered Severus. "You're one of the older students, you should set an example for the rest."

Barty snorted and pawed at the ground with his foot. "I've got my own priorities."

Snape, who hadn't put away his wand, poked it into the boy's forearm sharply. "Like showing _this_ off?"

"So? I'm proud to be a Death Eater," retorted the youth, raising his chin. "Why shouldn't I brag about it?"

"Because it will get back to Headmaster Dumbledore, you fool!" hissed Snape, leaning in a bit too close for comfort. "Do you want to be arrested? You'd better hope those friends of yours can keep their mouths shut!"

"I think they can," sneered Barty. "Their dads are Death Eaters."

Severus felt like walloping the brat in the head. He knew Whitfield's father was one of their ranks, and he wasn't surprised to hear about Carter's father, either. However, Crouch had given up two Death Eaters in the space of a second to someone he barely knew, and who he didn't suspect belonged to their group. "The point is, Mr. Crouch, that you should not be parading about as if you'd been inducted into an honor society. The Ministry doesn't look kindly on Death Eaters."

"You can't stop me, Snape," Barty shot back. When the coal black eyes burned into him, he stumbled back involuntarily, then caught himself. "You can't do anything to me, you're a _teacher_ now—if you touch me I'll tell Dumbledore you're torturing me and molesting me and you'll get sacked! Maybe even sent to Azkaban!"

Severus snatched his arm and yanked up the boy's sleeve. "And where do you think _this_ will land _you_?"

Barty sneered again. "Are you gonna tell on me?" He shrugged and an innocent expression replaced the haughty one. "I'm just a poor, impressionable boy who was tricked into joining. I've never done anything to be sent away."

"Is that what your father would say? Or don't you care?"

"Leave me alone!" snapped Crouch. "If you try to do anything to me, you'll be sorry! Death Eaters have a lot of power!" He yanked his arm away, scowling. "Give me detention, I don't care, it's all you _can_ do."

"_Get out!_" Severus shoved him hard toward the door.

If 'livid' had a higher form, he was there. The brat was right, there was no effective means of discipline he could employ now that he was a teacher. He couldn't use dark curses to manipulate the wretch's mind or to torment him. Telling Dumbledore was out of the question, even telling Crouch's father wasn't an option: the idiot boy would surely be arrested and plied with Veritaserum, which he'd undoubtedly not been taught to withstand yet. He'd spill the names of who knew how many Death Eaters. It would spell disaster for Severus, maybe even for Lucius.

There was only one thing to do before this disrespect and flaunting of the Mark got out of hand. He floo'd into Hogsmeade and Apparated to the castle to speak with Lord Voldemort.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Barty felt his Mark burning and pulsating shortly after he'd gone to bed. In the blink of an eye he was up and dressed, though he had to slink out of the castle unnoticed and dash across the grounds, both nervous and excited at once. Had the dark lord a mission for him, or was there a meeting?

As soon as he was able he Apparated to the castle, donned his Death Eater robe, and ran inside where—as always, it seemed—Bella stood guard. He thought it quite unnecessary, really, since the strong wards permitted only Death Eaters and their guests to pass. This night she was sitting on the counter teasing her black hair into an abominable bouffant. She pointed her comb in the direction of the meeting room, then gave a smirk as she slid off the counter and sashayed after him.

Crouch dropped to his knees several steps into the room. "My lord, you called me?"

"Yes, Barty, I did. It appears we have a problem."

The boy lifted his face to study the man on the throne. "I don't understand, master. What problem?"

Voldemort sighed heavily. He thought it seemed like what a concerned parent might do, not that he had any experience with parents, nor children either, for that matter.

Of all the young men he'd recruited over the years, none had enlisted with the hope of satisfying a deep-seated wish to replace his father with someone of consequence to look up to and imitate—none except Barty. Voldemort had seen it in the boy's memories. In spite of himself, Voldemort was flattered. Most of his Death Eaters obeyed him from awe and fear of his vastly superior skills and a desire for power. Barty was willing to trade unswerving loyalty in exchange for—for lack of a better term—a father figure to mold him. Were it noised abroad, it would shock none more than it had the dark lord himself that he'd tacitly agreed to this in his mind.

So far the boy had kept up his end of the unspoken arrangement, and only Bella had ever surpassed him in displays of devotion. Now _he_ must follow through in teaching the boy proper behavior that would help him survive.

"I grew up in a disgusting Muggle orphanage, Barty. I never had anyone to guide me as I've done for you. Haven't I been training you to duel and teaching you the Dark Arts?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Barty, confused as to where this was going.

"And did I not make it clear to you that if required I would punish you?" Voldemort intertwined his fingers over his heart as he stared, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, my lord." The lad's pitch had gone up several notches. "Have I done something wrong?"

"_Discretion_ is more than a word, young Crouch. My Death Eaters must always be vigilant, always careful of those they place trust in. While I'm certainly pleased at your pride in being my follower, if that old coot Dumbledore were to find out—as could easily happen with the foolhardiness you've displayed—it could cause…unpleasant…results. I cannot tolerate wantonly putting yourself and your companions at risk."

Crouch, still looking bewildered, ventured, "How did you—"

A single crook of Voldemort's finger brought Severus strolling in from a shadowy area near the wall. Crouch's eyes grew to the size of ping-pong balls as realization began to dawn on him. "P-Professor? You're a Death Eater?"

"Obviously," Snape drawled, cocking his head and sneering. The little prick wasn't so smug now, was he?

Voldemort scarcely contained a gleeful chortle. The scent of fear wafting up gave him an incredible sense of well-being. "First of all, you owe your professor an apology. I will not have the youth of my ranks disrespecting their elder counterparts."

"I'm sorry, Sn—Professor Snape. I won't show disrespect again."

Snape inclined his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement. A forced apology, while not worth much in itself, was better than nothing, and the dark lord's influence would definitely keep Barty's impertinence in check. He hadn't expected anything more.

Assuming the episode settled and over, both Snape and Crouch anticipated a dismissal, perhaps a final word of caution. Instead, Voldemort flicked his wand and a heavy leather strap materialized in Severus' hand. Startled, he snapped his head over to the dark lord.

"Master? What is this for?" _You are __not__ going to make me hang the twirp, are you?_

"Young Crouch has not yet been chastened," purred the evil wizard. "_You_ are his teacher, _you_ are the one he affronted. Since you found it impossible to correct the boy on your own, I will be here to supervise."

So that was it…Snape had come to him to solve a problem the dark lord evidently believed he should have solved on his own. Snape was being punished as well by forcing him to use the very instrument his own father had used on him so often as a boy. Barty sucked in a hard breath. His horror was mirrored on the young man next to him.

"But, my lord, his carelessness with the Mark affronted _you_," Severus countered warily. By all that lived and breathed, he did _not_ want to do this! Yes, he'd wanted Voldemort to discipline the twit, but this wasn't his kid, it wasn't his place to do this!

"Are you arguing with me, Severus?"

"No, master, I wouldn't dream of it." _Not if I hope to live until tomorrow_. Damn it all to hell! Why had he come here? He should have tortured Barty at school and been done with it.

"Please, master, I'll behave! I swear!" Barty shrieked, trembling as he knelt listening to them discuss him, eyeing the strap as if it were a cobra poised to strike.

"Take your medicine like a man, Barty," cooed the dark wizard. "Your actions prompted Severus to come here. Keep in mind that he has my blessing to repeat this chastisement in the future if he believes it warranted."

Crouch literally quaked. Snape had the power to do anything to him now!

Severus tightened his jaw. Trying to dispute Lord Voldemort's decision was patently suicidal, so he may as well get it over with. "How many does he deserve?"

Voldemort contemplated the question, then proclaimed, "Proceed. I'll let you know when to stop."

_Way to set up guidelines_, Severus grumbled inwardly. For all he knew, he might have to beat the kid to death, and while the prospect didn't entirely disgust him, he'd prefer not to do so. Drawing on his frustration at the boy, his anguish over his recently deceased mother, his general aggravation at life, Severus planted his feet, drew back the strap, and let it fly hard across Barty's shoulders, causing the youth to flinch spastically and cry out. Of necessity, Snape's face registered no emotion. He'd considered using less force, but he'd rather not be accused of coddling the brat, earning punishment for himself. Besides, in the scheme of things, this hurt a hell of a lot less than the Cruciatus, so Barty ought to be kissing his feet for not suggesting it instead.

The second blow sent Barty pitching forward to the floor, where he raised himself up and braced on his hands, struggling to control his outbursts. The third had him mewling softly. By the seventh weal, his tears dripped freely on the stones and he howled with each new wound. After an even ten blows, the dark lord raised a hand and Snape halted.

Voldemort walked over to the boy and gazed down at the panting, whimpering youth. He felt no pity, only an analytical assessment. He'd enjoyed the spectacle, yet it hadn't afforded as much entertainment as the tried and true Cruciatus. Still, if what he'd seen in some of his Death Eaters memories was typical punishment meted out by a father, this would suffice. If he were to take the boy under his wing in return for Barty's undying loyalty, part of his duty consisted of teaching Barty his place. Most of his Death Eaters suffered far worse physically at his hands, but this was different; it hurt the lad mentally to displease his master. It seemed an equitable trade.

"It's over. What have you got to say, young man?"

The youth propelled himself forward to land almost on top of the wizard's feet. He kissed Voldemort's robe, sniffed, and mumbled, "Thank you, master. I won't disappoint you again."

"I should hope not. Next time it may not go so easy for you. You may return to Hogwarts." He, Severus, and Bella—who'd been observing with keen interest from the doorway—watched the boy stagger to his feet and stumble out. "I doubt you'll have any more trouble with him, Severus."

"I don't imagine I will," answered Snape softly. Unless Crouch was a complete masochistic imbecile, he'd have no wish to repeat this scene. Still, Snape loathed what he'd had to do. He preferred curses to hands-on discipline, even if the curses were more painful. It made him feel somehow less involved, it didn't prompt those maddening flashbacks…

Ironically, the fact that he'd been made to thrash Barty also made him want to wring the brat's neck with his bare hands for causing the whole thing. He bowed to the dark lord, ignored Bella save to gape at her snarled hive of hair, and headed out. So much for his first bloody day as a teacher!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Work hours were over for Lucius, yet there he sat at his desk at the Ministry, busily drawing up papers that were to be reviewed by his lawyer before being put into effect. He smiled to himself. Severus would undoubtedly protest when he found out what his friend was up to, but by then it would be too late to do anything about it. His smile widened, his good humor meeting with an air of smugness.

He checked his pocket watch. Toven should be here any minute. He read over the document once more, satisfied with the wording, yet he held off on signing his name. Always let the lawyers check things over before signing, that's what his father had taught him.

At a light tap on the door he called, "Come in." To his consternation, Arthur Weasley's head popped around the corner, and Lucius fairly cringed. Did this degenerate family deliberately follow him around, and if so, what did they hope to gain from stalking him?

"Lucius," said Arthur. He considered offering his hand, then changed his mind.

Malfoy stood up to put himself on an even footing with the intruder. "To what do I owe this…delight?" he asked, unable to fully conceal his disdain. _Thank God he didn't shake my hand!_

Weasley's gaze had fallen to the parchments on the desk, which Lucius smoothly pushed into a pile and flipped over, leaving the man curious. "Uh, right. Lucius, I'm sure you're aware that there's been a proposal submitted anonymously to the Minister of Magic."

"What makes you so certain I'm aware of any proposal?" asked Lucius innocently.

"Because you're not one to be uninformed," shot back Arthur. "And because you're probably the one who put it forth to begin with."

"Speculative assumptions aside, please do continue," drawled Lucius in a bored tone.

"This proposal is asinine! It requests that the wizard population vote on whether purebloods should secure all the power in the Ministry," huffed Weasley.

Lucius' eyebrows raised a touch. "You're pureblood, Arthur. You stand to benefit from this." _Perhaps one day you might even aspire to owning a shoebox large enough for your army to live in._ "If the wizard populace votes, how can we disregard their verdict? I think it's an excellent idea, I congratulate whoever authored it."

Weasley looked both deflated and confused. He'd been so sure it was Malfoy's doing! "Nonetheless, since only landowners can vote, as per an obscure law that no one saw fit to change, that leaves almost no one to vote except purebloods. Most halfbloods and Muggleborns rent property. That's hardy a fair representation."

"The will of the people must prevail," said Lucius distractedly. _Where is that lawyer?_ If it weren't so blatantly rude, he'd tap his foot impatiently and demand that Weasley leave. Malfoys may be honest—brutally or sarcastically so—but rudeness was another matter.

"I realize we don't get along, but I'm hoping you'll join me in opposing this bill, Lucius. As long as the Minister doesn't put it up for a vote, there's no danger of it passing."

"Are you daft?" The look Lucius gave him clearly bespoke the notion that Weasley was inutterably insane not only for supposing that Malfoy might join forces with him, but for the ridiculous assumption that Malfoy might—for some bizarre reason—not want this legislation to pass. "While this conversation has been _riveting_, Arthur, I'm expecting someone. Mayhap you could toddle over to that mudblood on level four, drum up his support?" He flashed a smile showing straight white teeth.

As if on cue, another rap sounded on the door frame and a tall, burly wizard with impeccable clothing and a receding hairline stepped in. "Mr. Malfoy, if you're busy I can come back."

"No, not at all, Toven. Arthur was leaving." For the briefest second he contemplated taking Weasley's arm to forcibly escort him out, but fortunately thought better of it. Contact with that cheap material might cause him to break out in hives.

Weasley brushed past the man at the door, paused open-mouthed as if to speak, then went on out. The lawyer shot him an odd look, then promptly shut the door and approached the desk.

"Strange chap," commented Toven after Arthur had gone.

"Don't get me started, " Lucius sneered. "Can you believe he came in here trying to persuade me to side with him against my own proposal?"

"The pureblood power one?"

"Yes!" Lucius chuckled. "Witless git." The other man laughed in a deep, hearty rumble, shaking his head every so often.

At last Toven asked, "Have you got the papers you want me to look over?"

"Right here." Lucius handed him the parchments and observed the man as he pored over them with the thoroughness of a highly paid attorney. First he skimmed the documents, then went back to read them in their entirety. Finding no flaw, he laid them down on the desk.

"You should be a lawyer, Malfoy. You've certainly got the talent."

Lucius gave a dubious smirk. "Don't tell my father that, it'll give him ideas. So it's fine?"

"It's perfect," answered Toven. "Sign and date it, I'll sign it and get it filed."

As Lucius headed to the floo for home, an excited grin played over his face. He and Abraxas had conversed about this at length, both agreeing it was something that ought to be done, and now it was done: beginning immediately, Julius and Justina Snape were to receive in a trust fund 1,000 galleons each per year until the age of twenty-one, with Severus to monitor the distribution until the children graduated from Hogwarts. Severus had enough to worry about without fretting over whether the children had what they needed.

He was in such a good mood he couldn't wait to see his wife, maybe even have a special play time before supper. "Narcissa, I'm home!"

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

If Peter had ever felt guilty and uncomfortable, it was now. For the most part, anything cruel or outright evil he'd done in his life—like tormenting Snape as part of the Marauders—he blamed on someone else. Snivellus deserved it; James and Sirius were the ones who did it, etc. But James and Lily and Harry hadn't brought the impending catastrophe upon themselves, how could he blame a child for being born?

Of course, Malfoy had captured him and taken him to the dark lord, so technically all of this was _his_ fault—and Bella, for torturing him until he decided that the Death Eater side was the winning side and therefore the best place to be when the dust settled. And that seer Trelawney for making that prophecy about Harry in the first place. And the dark lord for wanting Harry dead. He squirmed as he thought of the dark lord, who might later read this memory.

So truly, he was hardly to blame at all for what was to come. They'd have found Harry eventually, he was just saving lives by turning him over now. He only wished it didn't involve his friends. As he sat on the couch in Godric's Hollow watching Harry ride his training broom up and down the floor, try as he might he couldn't conjure a happy countenance.

He was actually surprised the dark lord hadn't made his visit yet. Lord Voldemort had said something about basking in the moment and to be quiet, to tell NO ONE, not even other Death Eaters, as if Peter wanted to talk to _them_. Lord Voldemort said he was planning something for a precise day when all witches and wizards would hail him as their liberator from Muggles and non-pureblood rule; it made little sense to Peter, who wasn't exactly the sharpest quill in the box to begin with. He didn't bother to tell Peter when that day may be, and Peter hadn't dared ask. He didn't want to know.

"Wormy, did you hear who got the job of Potions teacher?" Lily was asking him. She'd so wanted a go at it, but circumstances being what they were…

"Oh, yeah. Snape got it," Peter mumbled, frowning.

"Snape!" James echoed. "I can't believe they'd give _him_ that kind of responsibility."

"He's excellent at potions, James," Lily chided softly. _Better than me, even._

And so the evening went, discussing trivialities of life inaccessible to the Potters in their hiding place while Peter did his best to pretend all was well. When he left, he embraced his friends and hurried away to his own flat where he cried alone well into the night thinking of poor little Harry. Even if he was doing the world a favor by ending Harry now, and one day they'd all see that, it hurt. The only consolation he had was in knowing James and Lily would go on, they'd have more children, and the pain would fade. Everything would be alright in the end.


	84. Chapter 84

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-Four

**Halloween 1981**

"Lucius, don't you think we ought to mingle or something?" asked Narcissa as she looked around the Great Hall.

As much as she relished having his strong arm wrapped around her waist, she feared he might forget where they were and let his hand migrate south. Not that she'd ordinarily complain, but they _were_ chaperones at the Hogwarts Halloween Ball, a position Lucius had finagled somehow as Governor, and it seemed flagrantly inappropriate to be groping each other in front of the students.

Lucius pulled her a bit closer so he could feel the heat of her through his robes. My, how glorious she looked in that form fitting black dress that accentuated her lithe figure! A figure, he'd noticed, that the perverted teenage prats couldn't manage to tear their eyes from. He glowered at a group of the twits, who hurriedly set about studying the fabulous details of the floor and ceiling.

"I suppose," he grumbled. "I really do need to ply the students for information for You-Know-Who." Grudgingly he pried his arm from around her waist. Leaning in to her ear he murmured, "If those boys bother you, hex them. Better yet, tell me and I'll do it."

"You're awful," she whispered back, though it made her smile to see a hint of protectiveness. She didn't see that aspect of her fierce dragon much anymore.

Her husband outright leered as he retorted, "Actually I'm quite good, which is why my wife can't wait to get me home and rip my clothes off."

Narcissa laughed and pushed him playfully in the chest. Considering his own dapper black robes with the high collar that made her swoon, capped by his oh-so-blond hair tied back in a velvet ribbon, she truly did feel a desire to attack him. He was so handsome, and she loved his darling smile that uncouth barbarians labeled a 'smirk'.

She kissed him lightly on the lips and pulled away lest he tantalize her into behaving like a …mudblood or something. "You go that way, I'll go this way. We're charged with keeping the children from fighting and such."

"And such?" Lucius pursed his lips as his eyes roamed over her, then he broke out in a laugh. "You're an unbelievable prude, my dear. We're to prevent the little beasts from procreating or attempting any behavior leading to procreation. I'll check the corridors for stray couples." So saying, he wandered off toward the exit of the Great Hall, with Narcissa's eyes glued to his silhouette the whole way, with heavy concentration on the bum.

"You sound like Severus!" she shrilled after him, her voice scarcely carrying more than a few meters, drowned out by the blaring music of a live band of what she assumed to be wizards in costume. They didn't look human, at any rate. She'd also never heard a waltz played quite so badly; next time she'd offer to help screen the musicians.

She felt a light tap on her shoulder and turned around. A tall boy of sixteen or seventeen gazed down at her, smiling nervously. Because he was in dress robes, she couldn't tell what House he belonged to. "May I have this dance?"

His awkwardness reminded Narcissa of Severus at that age, though his confidence had to be exponentially greater to work up the courage to ask a married woman to dance while her watchful husband was so near by.

What was the harm? He didn't have the guttersnipe look of a blood traitor or—heaven forbid—mudblood. Narcissa took his hand; he led her to the dance floor and proceeded to astound her with his grace, confirming her suspicions that he was a pureblood. Obviously he'd been dancing for years, for he knew every step, every dip, the precise instant to twirl her before snatching her to his chest for the finale. For a few seconds he held her a bit too tightly, breathing more heavily than the exertion of the dance might entail. She nudged him and peeled herself away.

"You're an excellent dancer," she complimented him as she brushed down her dress.

"Thanks, not as good as you," he grinned, sounding exactly like the infatuated teen he was. Apparently his finesse didn't extend to conversation with a beautiful older woman.

He didn't get the chance to make another swipe at conversing, for another youth, emboldened by this one's success, had approached.

"Could I dance with you now?" he said hopefully, kissing her hand, nodding as he wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. He was polished and really rather cute, and that puppy dog look…how could she say no to that face?

Pleased with himself at having chased two snogging couples back into the Great Hall, Lucius returned from his patrol of the corridors and came to an abrupt stop as if he'd run into a wall. He gasped and his jaw dropped. That was _not_ his wife out there flaunting herself while carousing with some young lech with the dancing proficiency of a hippogriff! _Oh, my mistake, __yes it is__!_ he seethed.

His first impulse was to draw his wand; his second was to put it away when he remembered all the teachers milling about. He couldn't hope to outfight them all, not at once anyway. Third on the list—confrontation. He stormed over and roughly pushed the boy in the shoulder, effectively knocking him tumbling into another couple, then scowled his most dour, threatening scowl.

"Narcissa, would you care to explain?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed. "Lighten up, Lucius. It's called 'dancing'. We're at a ball, that's what people do."

"Oh really? So it wouldn't bother you if I cavorted with some of those girls?" he clipped peevishly, his lips dangerously close to pouting. At their own soirees or those they attended, each danced with other partners—AFTER they'd had their own special waltz and agreed to socialize. And they didn't dance with underage boys drooling for the chance to touch their boobs! Well, _her_ boobs.

"Go right ahead, my love," smiled the woman as she stroked silky fingers across his cheek, which normally served to arouse him, and now only slightly aroused him. He was angry, after all. She turned to the gawking boy who hadn't the survival instinct to flee when Lucius charged over, held out her hand to him, and they took up where they'd left off.

"Fine!" Lucius snapped, more to himself than anything. He spun on his heel, chin up, and stalked over to the first girl he saw, who happened to be a buxom brunette in a dress not available in size 'buxom', hence the material stretched taut over her bosom. His manners not failing him, he bowed slightly, mindful not to stare at her chest, and asked, "Would the lady care to dance?"

"Sure," she smiled, following him onto the floor with an astonished, thrilled look back at her friends, who were giggling and chattering over the gorgeous man who'd dragged her away from her date.

With the skill of one accomplished in the fine arts, he twirled the young woman across the floor until they were directly beside Narcissa and the clod of a boy, then glanced at his wife while raising his eyebrows as if to say _What do you think now_? He dipped the girl so low her hair tumbled out of its binding and brushed the floor while Lucius gazed with rapture into her face. The music ended, he righted the girl and sent her on her way with a polite 'thank you' while Narcissa did the same with the boy.

Suddenly Narcissa wheeled on him, blue eyes blazing. "That's enough of those 'come hither' looks, Malfoy! Dancing is one thing; I won't have you flirting right under my nose!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Lucius replied calmly, shrugging innocently.

Her eyes narrowed to blue slits of vexation. "You know exactly what I mean. Next thing you'll be grabbing her ass or wiggling yours at her!"

"Merlin's beard, isn't it bad enough I have to deal with these insufferable louts?" drawled Severus from somewhere off to the side. He strode up in full view, crossed his arms, and glared at them. "I wasn't apprised that I'd need to scold the chaperones."

"He's flirting with those hussies!" Narcissa accused.

"She started it," Lucius countered. "She practically ordered me to go dance with the students, now she's whining about it."

"Grow up, both of you!" hissed the professor, getting their undivided attention. "I've never seen anyone so nauseatingly in love with each other as you two, so stop playing your stupid games and _chaperone_!"

Lucius looked sidelong at his wife, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Someone had an extra bowl of _snarky_ today."

Narcissa burst out laughing. She laid one hand on her husband's arm, the other on Snape's. "Don't mind us, Severus. We have to go through our silly ritual every now and then. It comes with being a Malfoy, I think."

"Oh, I see," intoned Severus. "Much like taking it upon oneself to decide on the welfare of someone else's siblings is a Malfoy trait."

"How long are you going to sulk over that?" groaned Lucius. "I was only trying to help."

"I don't recall asking for your help. In case you didn't notice, I have a decent job, I'm perfectly capable of caring for my siblings."

"What's wrong with giving the kids a little something extra?" demanded Lucius.

Exasperated, Snape finally uncrossed his arms to throw them in Lucius' direction as if to strangle him, but balling his fists instead and shaking his head at the man's obtuseness. "It's _insulting_! Can't you see that?"

Lucius stared at him, blinked a few times, then said, "Not really, no."

Pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of allaying the Malfoy-induced headache, Severus grimaced. His friend wasn't joking, he honestly didn't comprehend why Severus felt indignant over the whole trust fund issue. Lucius had been filthy rich all his life, how could he possibly empathize with those less fortunate?

Severus heaved a sigh, then attempted what he was sure would be a futile explanation. "Aside from the fact that it reminds me of growing up as a poverty-stricken charity case, it implies that I'm not competent enough to provide for the kids. Honestly, for someone so intelligent, sometimes you're dumb as a brick."

Curling his lip in a prelude to defending himself, Lucius sneered, "If I'd wanted to insult you, I could have found any number of ways that didn't involve the exchange of galleons."

"Oh, for crying out loud, you two are pathetic," sniped Narcissa. She was grateful now for the heinously loud music that prevented the students around them from overhearing this ridiculous conversation. "Severus, Lucius is too proud to say this, so I will. This trust fund means more to _him_ than it does to you."

"Honey, I don't think—"

"It's the truth and you know it! You're not exactly a humanitarian, Lucius Malfoy. You did that for the twins because you value Severus. You'd never do it for anyone else." So intent was she on railing at her husband, she didn't see the look of utter surprise overtake Snape. "You did it out of affection, not charity, but you're such a _man_ you won't admit it."

Flushing to the roots of his hair, but notably not denying Narcissa's remarks, Lucius turned up his nose at her while confiding to Severus, "What is it with women, always disparaging the…what's the opposite of 'fairer sex'?"

"Uglier sex?" Severus offered.

"Hmm," mused Lucius. "Women are definitely prettier, although I'd hardly categorize myself as ugly."

"Meaning _I_ am?" asked Severus, allowing the tiniest grin.

"You're both insane," Narcissa interjected, to which the two men merely smirked in unison. She rolled her eyes again. "I'm going to perform my duties as chaperone, and if one of those poor lonely boys requests the honor of a dance with me, I'm going to comply _without_ any more tantrums from my husband." Throwing her blond mane over her shoulders, she stalked off, deliberately swaying her hips for Lucius' benefit.

Snape, too, found himself entranced by her exit, though he quickly averted his eyes. He didn't need some dark curse whacking him for ogling his friend's wife. "She's got you whipped, Lucius, you know that?"

Lucius continued to stare after the woman while muttering, "Totally. But if you breathe a word to anyone, I'll have to kill you."

If Snape weren't in a room crowded with a slew of his students, he'd have laughed out loud. Anyone with eyes could see Malfoy worshipped Narcissa, and truth be told he thought it was kind of nice how Lucius catered to her like a princess—when they weren't squabbling like old hens. And he didn't believe for a second that Lucius would kill him for any reason whatsoever…unless ordered by the dark lord, an order he would obey only to protect his family. It was a reason Severus understood and agreed with.

"We'd best get to our duty," Severus said. With that, he drifted off to patrol for illicit gropers while Lucius meandered off in the opposite direction. Neither could wait for this night to be over!

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Bella had been called in after the meeting with the dark lord and that nasty rodent Pettigrew. She belonged there, of that she had no doubt, it was just that she should've been allowed to stay from the beginning. Why was rat-boy given the master's full attention, and she was only called in when they were through? She resisted, with much difficulty, the urge to crush Pettigrew's skull as she walked past him to sit at her master's feet.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Bellatrix, I have incredible news for you. Wormtail here has found the Potters for me." Voldemort paused to bask in her awe and exhilaration, then went on, stroking her hair thoughtfully. "Tonight he will lead me to their hiding place, where I will dispatch the brat—and his parents, if necessary."

"I'd happily murder them for you, my lord!" she gushed, clapping with eagerness.

"I know, but I do hate to kill a pureblood when we've nearly won the war and there are so few purebloods. As for the mudblood, I did promise Severus to spare her if she stayed out of my way." He seemed sorry for having made the oath.

"Snape! Why spare a mudblood for a halfblood?" hissed Bella.

"Don't be petty, Bellatrix. It doesn't become you." With a rare genuine smile for what was to come, the end of his tiny nemesis, he lifted her up as he rose from his throne. "When I return, we will celebrate. Then I'll summon my Death Eaters to come and revel in the victory."

He snapped his fingers at Peter, who hustled outside to wait for his master. Peter didn't know what the two of them might be doing, and didn't really care to know. Bella scared him, anything to do with her scared him.

A few minutes later, Voldemort joined him, still grinning maniacally. Oh, he'd waited so long for this! He grasped Peter's arm in a crushing squeeze and they Apparated together to Godric's Hollow. In the area there were children scampering about up and down the streets in outlandish costumes, to which Voldemort sneered. Filthy Muggle brats! When one of them looked up at him and began to cry, he barely stopped himself from toasting the tot on the spot.

His heart began to race with anticipation. They were almost there, he could almost _smell_ the Potters. "Lead the way, Wormtail."

Peter bowed clumsily, turned, and started off toward what looked to be a vacant lot. Gnawing his lip, he halted and pointed furtively, afraid to speak lest those inside the house hear him. He flinched as he leaned close enough to whisper the address to Voldemort, whose vicious smile drew from ear to ear; the house became visible to him the moment he heard the address.

Voldemort practically skipped down the sidewalk to the door with Peter lumbering behind. Drawing his wand with a flourish, accompanied by a savage, guttural laugh, he rapped on the door.

At first there was a sudden silence within, then a man's voice called out, "Who's there?"

"Trick or treat, Potter!" sneered the dark wizard.

Through the heavy wood Peter and Voldemort heard James shouting hysterically, "Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

Sounds of scurrying, bumping into furniture, terrified shrieks of mother and subsequent whimpering of a child made their way to Voldemort just before he blasted the door off its hinges, sending it hard into James, who'd been bracing himself against it. He shoved it aside and recovered enough to bolt for the sideboard where his wand lay, having no time to berate himself for not carrying it with him as Sirius had suggested.

Voldemort laughed, a fearsome high-pitched cackle that curled James' toes. A jet of light reached his wand before he could; it shattered into tiny splinters.

"Now, now, Potter, is that any way to treat a guest?" purred Voldemort.

At that instant James caught sight of Wormtail in the doorway, hunched over, looking guiltily wretched. "Peter! Help me—it's Voldemort!"

Peter's watery eyes shifted up to his friend's face for only a second, then back down to his own feet. At least for once he had the decency not to make up excuses or lies.

The dark lord, observing the exchange, laughed again. "Good old Peter, right, James? My servant answers to only one man."

"Pete—you—YOU TOLD HIM! You brought him here!" James exclaimed, his expression reflecting unmitigated fury and betrayal.

"Isn't this a touching little reunion?" Voldemort chuckled, his wand never leaving James as the former circled the defenseless wizard from a distance. "I'll be sporting, I'll give you one last chance. Join me, Potter, and I'll let you live. Defy me again and die."

James' mind was whirling. Peter had betrayed them…no, he couldn't dwell on that now. Lily had run upstairs with Harry, but where were they now? Had they levitated out a window and escaped? Had he bought her enough time? And then his stomach and heart felt like they'd been crushed simultaneously…there on the floor, half under the couch, was Lily's wand. She must have dropped it as she ran, she couldn't do anything, she was trapped!

He dove for the wand. Before his fingers even landed on the smooth wood, he heard _avada kedavra_. He was dead before he hit the carpet.

"Pity," said Voldemort. He kicked the body out of his way and headed up the stairs. In his superb mood he felt like breaking into song, only he'd never been one to listen much to music and frankly didn't know any happy little ditties. Even so, he tripped up the stairs with the agility of a young boy.

It wasn't difficult to find the redheaded wench, he only had to follow the panicked sobs to the nursery where Lily stood defiantly holding her son, jostling him and clenching him to her. She backed up until they hit the edge of the crib and could go no further.

"I only want the boy, mudblood. Hand him over and you may live."

"Not Harry!" Lily screamed frantically. "Not Harry, please! I'll do anything—" She spun around, set Harry in the crib, and took up position directly in front of him.

"Stand aside, you silly girl! Stand aside now."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!"

Voldemort flicked his wand impatiently at her, causing sparks to fly out the end. It would be easy enough to propel her out of the way, but the force necessary to keep her from coming back to interrupt him might damage her. If Severus weren't so important to the Death Eaters for his potion and healing skills, and if he weren't so loyal, the dark lord would not have given another thought to sparing the witch. "Mudblood, stand aside _now_."

"Not Harry! Please, have mercy…have mercy," she begged, sobbing.

Well, he'd given her ample opportunity to comply, thus fulfilling his promise to Snape. Another cackle gurgled up his throat and burst forth, intensified by the woman's screams. Oh, how he adored the sound of screaming! If it weren't for the fact that someone might show up unannounced—he laughed again at that irony—he could take his time and torture her properly.

He leveled his wand at her, cast the killing curse, and watched her crumple to the ground, exposing the child in the crib behind her. Harry was standing up, holding onto the rail, staring at Voldemort in fear. Then the child began to cry as he realized something terrible had happened to his mother.

That was the last straw. Voldemort had hoped to taunt the brat for a while before murdering him, but that incessant squalling grated on his ears and nerves, so like those wretches in the orphanage. He aimed his wand, uttered the _avada kedavra_, and…died.

The jet of green light bounced off Harry's head and ricocheted right back at Voldemort. The instant he saw it coming he felt the need to move, yet there was no time. It struck him squarely in the chest, just under the hollow of his throat, and like a bomb going off inside him, his body seemed to vaporize. Even as it was happening he thought to himself how very odd it was, very peculiar. There were no bits of him thrown around, they were simply…gone…and he was floating, confused.

Peter, who'd come running up at the bizarre, earsplitting blasting sound, stopped to gape in horror at the ethereal figure hanging in the air and at the sight of half the upstairs literally blown away. On the floor lay Lily, and in the crib—_alive_—was baby Harry, screaming and bleeding. Panting in terror, Peter looked around. Where was the master? The noise would draw attention, it had to. They must leave!

"Master?" he squeaked.

The spirit-like entity wafted over to him and hovered above his head, freaking him out in the worst possible way. His screams joined Harry's, he snatched up Voldemort's wand, raced down the steps and out into the chilly night to Disapparate. Voldemort's remains glided over to the destroyed wall and disappeared into the night.

Down the road a piece, Bathilda Bagshot was out on her porch handing out candy to the children passing by. The deafening explosion caused all of their heads to turn, and she jumped up in alarm. With her heart in her mouth she ran down the street far enough to see the twisted remains of the Potter house. A hand flew to cover her mouth. Hurrying back to her own home, she grabbed a quill to pen an urgent message to Dumbledore. Having sent it out, she wrote another quick note to Sirius, whom she knew to be James' best mate, and tied it to another owl, all the while tears spilled down her cheeks.

Peter Apparated to the first place he thought of, a place where Dumbledore and the aurors wouldn't know where to look for him, though at the time he hadn't considered that no one knew of his involvement. Hence, he arrived at the castle shaking and moaning, beyond hysterical. Voldemort's wand slipped from his trembling hands and bounced between two rocks of a crumbled wall. Had the master come here? He cheered a bit to think so and charged inside, finding only Bella.

"Where—he—did he come?" Peter gasped, proving beyond measure to Bella that the rat was incapable of articulation.

"What? Where's Lord Voldemort, rat-boy?" Bella shrieked.

Peter nearly dislocated his neck in shaking his head so forcefully. "In—the house—he—he—a big noise—he was gone—a floaty thing—"

Bella slapped him hard across the face, before contemplating she ought to try to calm him down to speak. She slapped him again. Teeth bared, eyes frantically piercing into the plump man, she demanded again, "_Where is the master_?"

"_I don't know_!" Peter screamed back. "An explosion—he—I saw _them_—he wasn't there. I saw a thing—misty thing—in the air."

Peter sensed the danger before he saw it; he turned tail and ran for outside with Bella screeching after him, "_Traitor!_ You betrayed the master!"

Instantly he transfigured himself into a rat, scurried out into the field and down the first hole he found, narrowly avoiding several curses thrown his way. Bella continued to pummel the area with curses until she was sure he had either escaped or was dead.

All at once the weight of what she'd learned hit her. Wormtail said the dark lord wasn't there, there was a 'misty thing'. Had he been ambushed by whoever 'them' was, blown apart, causing his spirit to escape? How did that horcrux thing work anyway? Was he really…dead? Her breath caught in her chest. No! He had horcruxes, he'd be back…but how and when? And in the meantime, where was he? She fell to her knees on the hard ground and began to wail.

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Severus had been called into Dumbledore's office, which he thought strange when the Ball was going on, since he'd been pressed into service as a chaperone. Searching his memory, he couldn't think of anything he'd done to be reprimanded for, aside from casting an innocuous spell on that couple who refused to behave decently. Maybe the old man had a spying job for him again…oh, goody.

"Severus, sit down, I have something to tell you." Dumbledore stood grimly over him as he obeyed. "I've received word of a dreadful nature. Your master Voldemort somehow found the Potters tonight. Lily and James are dead."


	85. Chapter 85The Reckoning

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-Five (The Reckoning)

Lucius rocked quietly in the nursery rocker, holding his sleeping son propped against his chest, secured with his right arm. They needed to move the boy to a larger room, he mused. He marveled at how far they'd come from Draco's nightly squalling to the darling toddler he'd become who loved to snuggle in his father's arms and snooze contentedly. If only things could stay this way.

Although thrilled to be free of the dark lord, he felt inexplicably lost. Those years of struggling for pureblood rule had come to an end with no victory in sight, and now there were too many opposed to the idea who were no longer hesitant to voice their opinions for fear of retribution. He'd devoted so much of his life to a lost cause, one he wasn't altogether certain the dark lord had even believed in.

Depraved as it may seem, he'd miss being a Death Eater. Oh, not the torture of himself and others, or the killing he'd been forced to witness. Rather, he'd enjoyed the way everyone trembled at the mere mention of the terrors of the dark, the Death Eaters, and the secret knowledge that he was one they feared. Even though he'd never been an ax man, it had been a power rush; now it was a liability that needed to be put away, and in that vein he'd already stowed his robes and mask in the secret chamber under the drawing room floor.

He raised and wiggled his left forearm so the sleeve backed up to his elbow. It was gone. The Dark Mark that had branded him a slave to a megalomaniac had faded to nothing at the passing of Voldemort. At least the Ministry and aurors wouldn't have _that_ to use against him when he was fingered, and he had no doubt he would be. The Minister was sure to order a full scale offensive against Death Eaters…it was only a matter of time.

"Here you are." Abraxas, noting the slumbering child, lowered his voice as he continued, while he remained standing in the doorway. "You don't seem very pleased to be rid of the evil wizard."

"I am happy to be liberated—ecstatic even," Lucius countered, his features not reflecting his claim. "I just can't quite come to terms with my conflicting emotions."

Abraxas cocked an eyebrow. "What's to be conflicted about? The despicable bastard obliterated himself trying to murder a baby barely younger than Draco." The sneer in his voice spread to his face. "Rather ignominious, really, for one of such great power."

Lucius turned a somber gaze on his father. "He said he'd come back if he died…something about horcruxes and dividing his soul."

"And you believe that claptrap?"

"I don't know," confessed the younger man. "It seems unbelievable, but he was so powerful. Bella's insane with grief over losing him, she swears he'll return…he explained more fully to her how this horcrux works. Maybe she's just insane."

"Maybe?" said Abraxas, managing to coax a grin from his son.

"They're going to arrest me," Lucius blurted, averting his face. He could imagine the shock and horror he'd see, he didn't need to actually view it. "When they do, I don't know how I'm going to talk my way out of it. I'm sorry to smear the Malfoy name." He set his jaw to keep it from trembling at the thought of being sent to Azkaban.

He wasn't off the mark in deducing Abraxas' reaction. The man's naturally pale complexion faded to an even more sickening waxy-white appearance. "What makes you so sure they'll apprehend you?"

"Too many Death Eaters know me. We have to assume Death Eaters will be the prime targets of aurors in the months to come, and one or more of my companions is bound to be arrested. Do you honestly think they won't torture the captives for more names?" He held little worry that a Death Eater might break under the influence of Veritaserum, since the dark lord had taught the majority of his followers to withstand it. Regardless of the laws against torture, he held no illusions that it would be withheld. There were strictures against Unforgiveable curses, too, yet the aurors used them with impunity.

Abraxas walked over to place a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, and he squeezed gently. Despite the turmoil raging in his chest, he must remain calm. "I know a lot of influential people, Lucius. We'll figure something out, I promise you."

Lucius looked up at him and gave a half-hearted smile. Beginning with his coming of age, he'd been meeting and coming to know a good many of his father's friends and acquaintances. As Abraxas stated, there were more than a few who held great sway in the Ministry. If _they_ couldn't get him out of this, no one could.

"Thank you, Father."

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Sirius Black was exhausted. Last night James and Lily had been murdered by that asshole of a dark wizard; Sirius had shown up shortly afterward when he'd been unable to find Peter at the hiding place, and he'd witnessed the devastation. He'd been up all night grieving—grieving and plotting.

Peter was the Secret-Keeper, therefore Peter must have been the one to lead Voldemort to the Potters. He'd betrayed them all, and Sirius intended to find Wormtail and make him pay for his treachery. Beyond that, he hadn't bothered to plan because he'd likely be in hiding himself or in Azkaban for killing the little traitor. He doubted anyone would believe his side of the story, not when Dumbledore himself thought Sirius was Secret-Keeper. Nevertheless, above all he must avenge his friends.

Thus, in the form of a black dog he made the rounds of Pettigrew's flat and haunts, hoping the backstabber hadn't fled. Not that it would deter Black, but it would make finding Peter more difficult. He stopped at a Muggle sidewalk café, ducked down an alley to shift into human form, and ordered a coffee. It felt good to sit down for a minute.

From the corner of his eye he glimpsed something familiar, something that looked like Peter's coat beside the next table. He turned his head, and sure enough there walked the abominable wretch as if he hadn't a care in the world! Sirius' blood turned to ice and he stood up. In three strides he was upon the traitor, snatching the back of the jacket and whipping him around with Muggles looking on.

The dismayed, cornered look Wormtail gave him was confirmation enough. "How dare you!" growled Sirius, barely able to keep himself from throttling his ex-friend.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?" whined Wormtail, trying to extricate himself from the other's grasp.

"Why, Wormy? Why would you do it?"

"D-do what?" He pulled out his wand, holding it behind his back.

Black flung him backward a few paces. "You know very well what I mean," he replied evenly, going for his own wand. "You're going to pay."

"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?" shrieked Peter loudly, sincerely hoping the Muggles were listening, and judging by the way heads all over the place turned, they were. Peter threw up a hand in front of his face as he burst into tears. "How could you betray Lily and James?"

Momentarily stunned by the melodramatic display, Sirius hesitated for an instant trying to process the nonsense. The instant was all Peter required. With his wand behind his back, he aimed it behind and downward and shot a spell that exploded into the street, flinging hunks of concrete in all directions, striking people and tables. A significant chunk whaled Sirius in the head, stunning him while a huge cloud of dust blanketed the area, obscuring his vision.

Amid the chaos of running, screaming Muggles, Peter hurriedly blasted off his own finger, transformed himself into a rat, and scurried into the crater he'd created, so deep it had cracked the sewer line below. In a heartbeat he'd disappeared into the sewer, with no time for Sirius to get off a shot.

Sirius gaped after him, utterly astounded that this dimwitted ponce had not only the audacity but the competence to frame him so thoroughly. In all the years he'd known Pettigrew, he'd underestimated him terribly, and now _he_ would be the one to atone for all this. Everyone would presume him guilty, he'd have nowhere to run. As he gazed blankly around him at the destruction, the numerous bodies lying about, he began to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Only a few seconds after the magical explosion in a Muggle area, a team was dispatched from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. One of the first on the scene was Cornelius Fudge, who arrived to view the savage slaughter, to see Sirius Black standing there laughing like a madman. The broken and dead bodies littering the area seemed not to phase him at all, nor even the set of bloodstained robes at his feet. It was the most grotesque thing Fudge had ever seen.

Twenty aurors surrounded Black to escort him away while others went to work questioning witnesses, erasing memories, helping the Muggle medical teams cart off the wounded and dead.

The only semi-coherent thing Fudge recalled the heinous criminal saying was, "It wasn't me, it was the _rat_."

Apparently he wouldn't be driven mad in Azkaban; he was already insane.

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Severus downed his third Calming Draught of the day, as he'd been doing since he heard of Lily's death. It was the only way he was able to function, to go through the motions of being a teacher to the world's stupidest pupils. Otherwise, aside from his greatest fear of breaking down in front of the brats, he might perform his second greatest fear—choking the brats into unconsciousness or worse.

Now, in his own quarters for the night, he felt at ease to dwell on and berate himself for the recent events. It was his fault Lily was dead (never did the thought of James even cross his mind). He'd sneaked around and heard the prophecy, he'd run to the dark lord with it…he'd signed her death warrant. If he'd kept to himself, no one would've known except Dumbledore, who would never have told Lord Voldemort. Not counting the dark lord's pique with the Potters and desire for their death on general principles such as defying him, there'd have been no need to protect Lily because Harry wouldn't have been targeted.

Harry! The very word burned his brain. If it weren't for that blasted child…but no, it wasn't the kid's fault. That still didn't mean he wanted to watch over Potter's son, The-Hell Spawn-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-More-Miserable. Why him? Was Dumbledore compensating for his own failure to protect Lily by forcing Severus to guard her urchin when he got to Hogwarts? What if the dark lord reappeared before that? How was Snape to protect Harry then?

Severus flopped onto his couch, resting his head on an armrest, feet propped up. The dark lord had spoken of horcruxes once, and Snape hadn't really believed him…but Dumbledore seemed to, and his knowledge of magic far exceeded the younger man's. Could Voldemort return? It chilled him to the bone to think so.

A knock on his door startled him. None of his students would dare disturb him in his quarters, and Dumbledore typically used the floo if he had something to say. Perhaps one of his little snakes was in trouble and needed his Head of House. He groaned like an old man as he rolled off the sofa and stomped to the door. It was only a house elf, who handed him a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and scampered off.

"Idiot elf," he muttered to himself. He closed the door, carried the paper to the couch, and sat down heavily again. The front page entranced him, and his jaw dropped.

There, staring him in the face, was a picture of that demented Sirius Black. The caption read: _Murderer Arrested and Thrown into Azkaban_. In spite of himself, Snape felt a smile spreading over his face. Finally the bastard got what he'd long deserved!

Snape devoured the article, which detailed Sirius' murder of Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles, then his subsequent arrest and imprisonment without benefit of a trial.

Severus paused to reflect. He'd been blaming the dark lord and himself for what happened, but there was more to it. The Headmaster had told Snape that the Potters were being kept under the Fidelius Charm; it was only a skip away to figure out that Potter would name Black his Secret-Keeper, which meant…Severus paled. Black had betrayed them to the dark lord! Of all the things he'd have ascribed to the jerk, that would _not_ have made the list.

"Showed your true colors at last, hmm, Black?" drawled Severus quietly. "It wasn't enough to kill Lily, you had to butcher two of your cronies as well. I always knew you were psychotic, but would Dumbledore listen?"

Even this bright spot of Black's punishment failed to cheer him substantially. Lily was still gone. It wrenched his heart in ways he didn't fully understand. Losing Glenna had devastated him, but he'd managed to keep his life together and go on. Why did losing Lily hurt like this? There'd been nothing to bind them together, not even a real friendship after the…incident. It simply made no sense.

He reached over to his coffee table for another shot of Calming Draught. One day this would get easier, it had to, but until then it was a good thing he was a potions master.

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_"Where is my master?"_ shrieked Bella at Frank Longbottom, who was lying on the floor at her feet. Her eyes projected a purely maniacal expression that frightened him more than the threat of more Cruciatus.

"I told you I don't know," moaned the man.

"He's dead!" Alice Longbottom shouted from Rabastan's arms, which held her fast. "Leave Frank alone!"

Bella gestured brusquely with her wand at Alice. "Let her go. Rodolphus, you watch _him_ while I convince his wife to tell the truth." A hard Cruciatus ripped into Alice, sending her screaming to the floor.

"Please, let her be!" bellowed Frank, trying to get up and kicked back down by the Death Eater towering over him. Gasping for air, he reached out for his wife. "We don't—know anything."

"Don't know or won't tell?" asked another voice. Barty Crouch pushed himself away from the wall and came out from the shadows into the light, his blue eyes rimmed with red but set in anger. Lord Voldemort had been stolen away by the Order members, there was no other plausible explanation. A body doesn't simply _vanish_, so he couldn't be dead…he couldn't be. Not when Barty had finally found the mentor he so desperately craved. He couldn't lose him—he _wouldn't_!

Without even consciously willing it, he aimed his wand and threw a _crucio_ at Frank that lifted him off the ground from the force of it. Impressed, Rodolphus grinned and clapped him on the back. Rabastan merely nodded his approval. Barty and Bella lifted their wands at the same time, leaving husband and wife panting and sobbing on the floor.

"Where did you take him?" hissed Bella through clenched teeth. "We know your filthy group has him."

"No," groaned Frank. "We don't. As far as we know, he died when he hexed the baby."

"Babies don't hex back!" shrilled Bella, slamming him with another _crucio_.

This time Rodolphus cast the spell on Alice, followed immediately by Rabastan. Over and over it went, hours passed in the fruitless questioning and torture, each Death Eater taking turns, demanding answers, but none so intent as Bellatrix. By the time she agreed it was useless to continue, as both husband and wife appeared beyond all hope of lucid responses, the Longbottoms had been irreparably damaged.

"Maybe he is dead," said Rabastan very softly, wand at ready in case of attack from Bella.

"What was it he said about living forever, Bella? His soul in a horcrux?" asked Rodolphus.

Bella nodded, lips set grimly. "We have to find him even if he is a soul, so we can restore him to a body. But where did he go?"

That was one question no one attempted to answer. The Death Eaters stepped over the bodies of their victims and left them lying on the floor when they departed.

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As nervous—nay, terrified—as Lucius felt, his blank countenance revealed nothing. Because of his father's connections, he'd been spared the humiliation of waiting in Azkaban for his trial on the charge of being a Death Eater. Now, led into the dungeon-like room by aurors and pressed into a chair at the bottom of rows of seats, he sat up straight and proud in his best dress robes. Thankfully, the magic arms did not bind him down.

His gray eyes searched round for familiar faces, and he locked gazes with all he could, silently professing his innocence. He'd heard Augustus Rookwood had been the one to break down and turn him in after being ratted out by Karkaroff, who'd divulged a stream of names, Malfoy's not among them. He wouldn't be surprised if his name had come up with other Death Eaters as well, which meant there'd be corroborating reports of his activities. Denial wasn't going to be good enough.

On an intellectual level, he wondered why Karkaroff hadn't mentioned him. He'd certainly given a laundry list of others in the group, and he and Karkaroff had been only acquaintances, friends of a sort, not really close by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps he feared Malfoy retribution, mused Lucius, holding back a grim smile.

While he waited for the trial to begin, he ruminated on the fate of his companions. The litany didn't bode well. Evan Rosier had been killed by aurors rather than submit to capture. Dolohov, Travers, and Mulciber had been convicted and sent to Azkaban. The Lestranges had gone to Azkaban rather than deny Lord Voldemort—hell, they'd tortured a couple into insanity in their quest to find the dark lord, undoubtedly on Bella's lead. The crazy bitch had gone wholly psycho, and good riddance to her as far as he was concerned.

It was pointless to search for Narcissa among the faces in the stands, he'd asked her not to come. If he were to be convicted, he couldn't bear the last sight of her to be in tears. His gaze fell on a friendly face and his stomach lurched. Severus perched on the edge of a bench near the highest tier, his face impassive, yet Lucius could see even from this distance the anxiety in his stiff manner. It wasn't like Snape to show his emotions even through body language.

To everyone's surprise, not the least being the Malfoys, it had been revealed that Snape had turncoated, had gone over to Dumbledore sometime in the last months before the dark lord's demise, maybe when he became a teacher. It shocked Lucius more than angered him. He wouldn't have believed it if Dumbledore hadn't vouched for Severus himself. How had Snape managed to serve the dark lord and the old Headmaster at the same time without Voldemort seeing it? Then again, who's to say Severus wasn't playing Dumbledore, pretending to be a repentant Death Eater to gain his sympathy? It beat the hell out of going to Azkaban! Whatever his reasoning, Severus hadn't betrayed Lucius, he'd been a true friend.

There was a commotion, a ripple of murmuring through the witches and wizards flanking Malfoy on three sides. He had to turn his head almost around to see, but before he saw anything he felt the awful chill, the evil touch of the dementors as they led Rookwood up to sit beside him. Magical bonds snaked out to secure Rookwood to his seat, and the dementors withdrew. Rookwood glanced over at Lucius, ashamed, and hurriedly turned his face forward.

"Lucius Malfoy, you are here to answer the charges leveled against you, first and foremost of being a Death Eater," intoned Bartemius Crouch, Sr. He looked to have aged ten years in the short space of time since sentencing his own son to a living nightmare in the wizard's prison.

Abraxas had confided to Lucius right before the trial that public opinion had been turning away from Crouch, partly because of his barbarous methods of allowing aurors to use torture and Unforgiveables, partly for his refusal to permit the accused an advocate, and partly because of his seeming indifference to the suffering of his own son, whose guilt hadn't been conclusively proven. For Lucius to get the council on his side might be a difficult feat, but with their support he'd be set free.

Time to put on the game face. Crouch seemed to be waiting for a response. Lucius drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Who is it that accuses me?"

"Augustus Rookwood."

Lucius actually let out a short laugh, though he wisely contained the sneer. "Surely you jest? You would take the word of a confessed Death Eater desperate to improve his own situation by implicating innocent people?" He managed to sound indignant by the end.

"Mr. Rookwood has given testimony, which I adjure him to repeat now in the presence of this council," snapped Crouch.

Rookwood would have squirmed at the glare piercing him from Lucius' direction, were it not for the tight bonds. "Malfoy is a Death Eater, I saw him at a lot of our meetings. He helped torture Caradoc Dearborn and Dorcas Meadowes and numerous other people over the years when the dark lord brought us together. He was one of the squad who killed the Prewetts, and he was there when—"

He stopped and blanched. He'd almost incriminated himself in the murder of the squib Devon Smythe and his family.

If looks could kill, Rookwood would be disemboweled, drawn and quartered, and decapitated. Lucius coolly goaded him on. "When what? _Do_ tell."

"Ah, that's all I remember," squeaked the other.

Crouch banged his gavel loudly on the tabletop. "These charges are sufficient to incarcerate Mr. Malfoy in Azkaban for life. I move to vote—"

"I object!" A deafening silence covered the arena, all eyes focused on Lucius, who'd risen from his seat. "Was I not brought here to _answer_ these charges? Am I not permitted rebuttal?"

"By all means, Mr. Malfoy, present your counterargument," sneered Crouch, secure in the knowledge he'd captured another of the hated Death Eaters.

Lucius debated for a millisecond whether to sit down again, and decided against it. While he dared not wander dramatically about, he felt more in control this way. He saw his father gesturing subtly to him, and could almost hear him urging, _Stick to the strategy_. That is, the recommended strategy put forth by a team of lawyers working on his behalf.

He took another deep breath. If he trusted anyone, it was his father. "I am not a Death Eater. Are their gang not marked in some way on the arm?" He yanked up the sleeve of his right arm past the elbow and held it up for all to see. "I have no mark."

"The other arm, Mr. Malfoy," grumbled Crouch. "And it seems all the Marks have disappeared with You-Know-Who's passing."

Nonetheless, Lucius bared the other arm and held it up for inspection. "I admit I have done some unpleasant things…evil things, if you will." Gasps and murmuring in the council. _Don't panic, follow the script_. _Most of it is true anyway_! "At first I thought perhaps I'd dreamed them, watching people tortured, contributing in my own pathetic way. Against my will I was even sent on a horrible mission with them…to the Prewetts. I believe it was a trick to kill me, for while there one of You-Know-Who's people cursed me with _causa meschever_ and I nearly died. Professor Slughorn made the antidote for me, he can attest to that. When I finally came to realize what was happening, that I'd been cursed with the Imperius and compelled to perform, I-I didn't know what to do. Who would believe me if I told them?"

His face, full of repentance and shame, stared up at them, begging for understanding. Tears hung precariously in his eyes and slowly began to roll down his cheeks. "I tried to resist, but You-Know-Who used the Cruciatus on me many times because I wouldn't obey willingly. I never killed anyone, I swear that to you!"

"He's lying!" Rookwood shouted.

Crouch leaned forward eagerly. "You've seen Malfoy kill someone?"

"Well, no," admitted Rookwood.

"To your knowledge, did You-Know-Who ever use the Cruciatus on Malfoy?"

"Yes," growled Rookwood, seeing his opportunity for leniency waning. "But about the Imperius, that's a lie! He was a willing servant."

Lucius addressed the crowd again. "If I were willing, as Rookwood claims, why would I fight the Death Eaters when given the chance? A few years back when a family was surrounded and murdered by Death Eaters at an outdoor café, I battled against them just as several others did. I even injured one of them. There are numerous witnesses to that fact, I even gave my statement to aurors."

"I remember that incident," piped up one of the council members. She smiled down at Lucius as she said, "My son-in-law fought the Death Eaters that day, too, and he told me he saw Lucius Malfoy battling them."

Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Lucius went on. "Whatever evil I've done has not been through my own will, but by the Imperius curse. I wholeheartedly regret and decry such actions, while begging for your compassionate understanding. Who among you could resist the Imperius? Would a Death Eater donate 20,000 galleons to Hogwarts, or millions of galleons to hospitals and other charitable organizations? I intend to contribute even more to the families of those afflicted by You-Know-Who's pawns, if only you see fit to clear me of these odious, shameful charges." As a final gambit he added, "I am ready and willing to submit to trial by Veritaserum, if it will put your minds at ease in knowing I speak the truth."

Another mild rumbling stirred the council. Veritaserum was seldom used and highly feared by criminals. Crouch sharply rapped the gavel again. "Let us put this to a vote. All those in favor of conviction, raise your hands."

Of the two hundred or more members present, only a spattering of hands went up, less than a dozen in the whole council. Face contorted with suppressed rage, Crouch whacked the gavel down so hard the head snapped off and pitched into the stands, bonking a wizard on the head.

"Acquitted!" he barked. "Remove Rookwood back to Azkaban, Malfoy is free to go."

Lucius fairly ran up the steps to where Abraxas had risen to his feet, duel smiles of gratitude and relief gracing both their features. He snatched his son in a bear hug, slapping him heartily on the back—a rare display of affection, let alone in _public_.

"Come on, Lucius, let's go home. Narcissa will be worried sick."

"One minute, Father." Lucius pulled away from the older man as he searched through the crowd that was filing out. He caught sight of a thin young man in black and made his way toward him. When they were within arm's length, he clasped Snape to his chest, to the other's consternation. "Thanks for coming, Severus. When I saw you sitting there, I seriously considered calling on you to testify for me." He let go and stepped back, slightly embarrassed.

Severus grinned. "You know I would have."

"Yes, I know," said Lucius softly. "I'll see you later, then."

"You'd best go. I'd hate to have Narcissa box my ears for keeping you," said Snape dryly. "Congratulations on your victory."

Lucius laughed with joy and relief and thankfulness. For the first time in years he was free, truly free of the dark lord and the Death Eaters and the suspicion. And it felt deliciously, delectably spectacular.


	86. Chapter 86Finale: Snapshots

I, Too, Shall Follow—Chapter Eighty-Six (Finale: Snapshots)

(**A/N**: This chapter consists of unrelated episodes in the lives of our characters as the years go on. My next story, _Death Eater No More_, will also star Lucius and Severus, but it begins at the Battle of Hogwarts in _Deathly Hallows_. Obviously Snape lives, you'll have to read to find out how. Expect to see you there! It's been a long and bumpy ride, I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for sticking with me, and special thanks to those who took the time to review!)

**December 1981**

Christmas at the Weasleys, while a joyous occasion, was by necessity also a frugal affair. Molly had handed out her offering to her children, which they had already donned: matching red sweaters with their initials emblazoned on the front. Arthur had given each of the boys a handcarved toy he'd made himself in the Muggle fashion—and he had the slices on his fingers to prove it.

Three-year-old Fred and George, their oversized sweaters hanging to their knees, grinning like Cheshire cats, came into the family room tugging and pushing a large cardboard box. Gesturing dramatically, they exclaimed, "Ta-da!"

"Open it, Perthy," cooed Fred to the solemn five-year-old playing quietly with his figurine.

Percy looked over at him with more suspicion than a small child ought to harbor. "What is it?"

"Your present," said George, tapping the box almost lovingly.

The older sibling, curious if suspicious, minced over and flipped open the box, to find inside a smaller box. The twins burst out laughing at the expression on Percy's face.

"It's not funny," grumbled Percy.

Bending over into the big box, and nearly falling for his trouble, Fred retrieved the smaller box and shoved it into Percy's hands. "Open it."

Percy rolled his eyes, lifted the lid, and promptly dropped it with an ear-shattering scream. Doubled over in their mirth, Fred and George didn't at first see their father come charging into the room, with the rest of the family at his heels.

Arthur took in the scene at a glance. No one appeared injured, and the twins looked downright ecstatic about something. "Boys, what is going on?"

George met his father's gaze with an innocent smile. "We gived Perthy a present." Fred nodded along.

"Liars!" shrilled Percy. He ran over to cling to Arthur's leg. "It's a _rat_!" He pointed under the couch to where the rodent had scurried.

"A rat?" echoed Molly. "You boys know better than to bring a filthy creature into this house!" As she spoke, the two oldest boys had dropped to their knees to peer under the couch and fetch the rat out.

"'S not filthy," pouted George.

"An' his foot's hurt," challenged Fred, well aware of his mother's softhearted attitude toward injured animals. "We founded him in the garden."

"An' he looks hungry," added George.

Charlie sat up, triumphantly holding the squirming, squealing rat over his head. "Got him!" Observing it closely, he noticed one toe on the front paw missing. "They're right, mum, his finger's gone."

Bill regarded the rodent carefully. "He seems okay, mum, he's not biting or anything." He stroked the creature, who calmed instantly.

"Maybe we could keep him for a pet. Look how nice he is," said Charlie as he patted its head. The rat rubbed up against him.

"_My_ pet!" Percy demanded, stomping over to snatch the rat from his brother and cradle it in his arms. Seeing his brothers handle the rodent, he no longer feared it—at least he'd never let them know if he did.

Arthur and Molly exchanged uneasy glances. Molly said at last, "Well, if he gets fleas, he's gone! And you'll feed him and take care of him, Percy?"  
The little boy nodded vigorously. "I'll call him Scabbers cuz he's got a scab on his toe."

Arthur smiled weakly. "Good thinking, son."

"Go put the…rat…in your room," Molly ordered, grimacing. This would take some getting used to. "It's time to eat."

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**May 1983**

"Uncle Zeb, help me open it," implored Jacinta, staring up at her father with big blue eyes and holding up the package he'd given her for her fourth birthday.

Severus obligingly removed the outer wrap and pulled a mini cauldron out of the box. It delighted him to see her eyes glint with joy as she held it reverently. Next came a wooden stir rod and measuring and cutting utensils—dull, naturally, to avoid mishap. Jacinta shrieked elatedly, set the cauldron on the floor, and proceeded to 'brew' a potion while jabbering ingredients to herself.

"Severus, it's adorable!" Glenna beamed. "I hope she takes after you at potions."

The man smirked proudly. "It's genetic, she will. And I'll be teaching her, of course."

"Teaching who what?" asked Jack, who'd just arrived home from work. He spied Jacinta on the floor with her new cauldron. "Never mind." He kissed his wife, patted her pregnant belly, and glanced around for his son. "Where's Orin?"

"My parents took him to Diagon Alley," she answered.

Jack did a doubletake at Severus before he realized the other man wasn't in the usual disguise he wore when one of the Mulciber clan might happen by. For the umpteenth time he remembered with relief that his sadistic father was in Azkaban, they didn't have to worry about him trying to murder Jacinta if he found out the truth of her parentage.

"Stop staring at me, Mulciber. If I didn't know better, I'd think you found me attractive," drawled Severus without animosity.

"Sorry, Snape." Jack blinked a few times. "I was just thinking."

"That's a first," answered Snape dryly. "Don't strain yourself."

Jack ignored him. "I guess you don't need to use glamour or illusion charms anymore now that my dad is where he belongs and things have settled down."

"I beg to differ." Both Glenna and Jack shot him questioning looks. "Glenna's family knows who I am, but yours doesn't. If they or anyone else found out, it could make life for Jacinta more difficult."

Jack aired the thoughts Severus had been unwilling to vocalize, the ones they all lived with on a daily basis. "You mean in the unlikely event of my dad escaping from Azkaban, or one of his sick cronies taking up his cause for him?"

Snape nodded, his lips set in a white line. "I believe she's safer if we keep things as they are."

"Daddy, look!" Jacinta shouted, motioning wildly with one hand for Jack to come over. "Uncle Zeb gave me potions stuff so I can be as good as him!"

_Daddy_. After all this time the word still cut into Severus' heart at the knowledge that _he_ wasn't the one being addressed.

"That was very nice of him, wasn't it?" asked Jack as he lifted the girl into his arms. "Did you say 'Thank you'?"

"Thank you," smiled the child. Suddenly she thrust out her arms toward him.

Severus walked over to take her from Mulciber and squeezed her tightly in an embrace as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. "I have to go now, but I'll be back later to take you to grandma and grandpa Prince's house."

"Will Tina and Julius be there?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm going to get them very soon and we'll all leave together." He set her down so she could return to her new toys.

He gave a half-hearted smile to Glenna and nodded over to Jack before leaving via floo for Hogwarts. Sometimes he wished he still hated Jack, it would make resenting him much easier. The man had proven himself a loving, competent father to Jacinta…probably better than Severus would have been under similar circumstances, he mused darkly. Nonetheless, it rankled at times.

Regardless, things were the way they were. All he cared to think of right now was getting his siblings into his quarters so they could leave before his Slytherin charges caught sight of him and decided they _needed_ something, like help for their upcoming O.W.L. exams, or a potion to heal a Quidditch injury, or someone to explain to one of the other teachers that it wasn't their fault the magical creature in question had choked on a piece of hard candy that accidentally fell from a pocket.

Severus sighed. Clingy brats. Didn't they understand the difference between a Head of House and a surrogate father? In many cases, he probably gave them more attention than their own fathers did, which he thought far beyond his job description. If it wouldn't tarnish his hard-nosed image, he might admit—at least to himself—that the little snakes grew on him.

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**January 1985**

"Narcissa, I do hope you've reconsidered your ill-advised plan to meet with the blood traitor," said Lucius in a voice as close to a plea as a Malfoy could come. He was trying very hard to be nice about this whole sordid business.

His wife evidently didn't appreciate his efforts. She stared him down with icy blue eyes. "She is my sister, Lucius, and I'll see her whenever I desire."

"I've been patiently tolerating your meetings in out of the way places, my love. I cannot condone a virtual slap in the face to me and my father—not to mention your mother—when you decide to gaily strut down the street arm in arm with Andromeda," huffed the wizard, niceties dropped by the wayside.

Narcissa sniffed and whirled to face the mirror. She calmly brushed her hair and fastened it into a ponytail, looked over her reflection, and smiled with satisfaction. Then she turned back to the man pouting behind her. "For your information, we're not going to be 'strutting down the street', we're going to a beach in Greece. I highly doubt anyone you know will be there. Your reputation will remain intact."

Not so readily placated, he argued, "Lots of pureblood families go on holiday this time of year. Who's to say they won't see you?"

Leaning in so close her lips brushed his ear, she whispered, "It's a _Muggle_ beach." The sight of Lucius' horrified expression alone was priceless. She'd have to remember to tell Andy all about it.

"You can't be serious!" he exclaimed. He looked like he might pop a blood vessel in his temple.

Now Narcissa felt the teensiest bit guilty. She and her sister actually only planned to go to a secluded beach where on occasion Muggles were known to wander through, and she didn't want her handsome hubby to come to harm over this…but to tell him would make him think he'd won.

"Don't worry, Lucius, I don't plan to _mingle_ with them." She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. "In this weather, it's doubtful many people will be there, and I think it's safe to assume no purebloods will be spying on me."

"I should think not," Lucius growled. "What is this family coming to?"

"I'll be home for supper," she assured him with a kiss on the lips. At that time she'd tell him the truth and set his mind at ease. "You can tell Abraxas I went shopping, I'll bring back a souvenir."

"What about Draco?"

"No doubt he'll enjoy spending the day with his father. See you later, love!"

Lucius gritted his teeth and shoved down his revulsion. Muggle beach! Nauseating! Well, he'd best start training his son in the way a true pureblood should go, lest Narcissa foul the child up with her progressive being-near-Muggles-won't-hurt-me ideas. If she had the audacity to go against his wishes in this matter, he felt no compunction about going against HER wishes.

"Draco! Come here, son!" Under his breath he muttered, "We're going to Borgin and Burkes. It's time you start learning about the Dark Arts."

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**June 1986**

It was coming again, that damned full moon! Remus always felt it days ahead of time, and only got more agitated as the night approached. Without the Wolfsbane potion, he'd gone back to behaving like a beast, something he'd never wanted to do again, yet ever since Snape had gone to teach at Hogwarts he'd felt abandoned and bereft of hope.

He'd taken the formula to Philana, whose eyesight wasn't as keen as it used to be, so she'd passed the task on to her new assistant, who'd botched the job…it didn't work, at any rate. He was fortunate not to have killed anyone that night. Another potions shop had also failed him, which he found utterly frustrating. Without the potion or the support of his friends—murdered by Sirius, of all people—he had nothing to help him control himself. In despair he'd packed up his meager possessions and moved far away into the French countryside.

As he leaned back on a bale of hay in the barn where he slept, he brushed his long hair back from his face as he thought of Sirius, and his breath grew tight in his chest. How could Sirius have done such a thing, join the evil wizard, betray his friends to their deaths, murder Peter? Remus used to love him like a brother, yet four and a half years later the wound Sirius had inflicted was still raw.

"Remus?" came a teenaged girl's voice from the barn floor.

Up in the loft, he crawled to the edge to look down at her. Again he flung his hair back. He _really_ needed a hair cut. "Yes, Lisette?"

"My father wants to know if you finished the west field."

"Yes," he answered, suddenly struck by how much French he'd learned since coming here. "Tomorrow I need to go buy some twine and fencing wire."

Lisette came tripping up the ladder and stuck her head above the flooring, her eyes smiling in a manner much more mature than her years. "Dinner won't be ready for an hour. I can think of a way to pass the time." She winked at him.

Remus instinctively backed away. Even if the girl were old enough to qualify as a woman, which she assuredly wasn't, he couldn't reconcile a brief fling against the possibility of begetting a child…a werewolf's child. Would the baby be affected? Furthermore, he didn't relish the idea of getting close to someone, not when he might end up _eating_ that person one day. And he simply wasn't the type to sow his wild oats, for him it meant a relationship, marriage. Something he dared not do.

"Lisette, I think I hear your mother calling."

"No, she's not."

As if on blessed cue, the older woman's harsh tone bellowed across the yard for her daughter. Lisette scampered down the ladder and out of the barn, to Remus' great relief.

Tomorrow evening he'd have to chain himself to a tree in the depths of the nearby forest, as he'd been accustomed to do since moving here. He didn't look forward to it at all, but it beat being captured by the local farmers or—God forbid—attacking one of their children. Maybe next week he'd write to Dumbledore, see how things were going at home. Or maybe he'd pick up and move to another location. He dreaded having to fend off Lisette's advances…

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**February 1988**

Abraxas sidled up to Severus at the reception of Justina and her new husband Miles MacKenzie. With typical Malfoy superiority, he hadn't expected anything fancy; in fact, he'd assumed the family of the groom would put on a garish display fit for a Weasley. He was frankly surprised at the tasteful decorations and the food that was not only edible, but rather agreeable. Not to Malfoy standards, certainly, though only a rare pureblood could achieve that.

The boy was a mudblood, more's the pity, which thankfully hadn't come as a shock. Tina had been courting him all through school, and she loved him. It was none of the older man's concern; it wasn't as if his own family line were being tainted. The Malfoys had attended the wedding because of their affection for Severus and Justina, though Narcissa had then gone to her mother's home, for the poor woman was taken ill. He vaguely wished they hadn't agreed to come to the reception.

"It's all arranged, Severus. Are the twins prepared for this?"

"They don't have much choice, but yes. They were initially resistant to the idea, but I've finally convinced them it's the right thing." He turned to look over his sister, who beamed radiantly in her beaded white gown. He wished mum could be here, she'd so looked forward to her children's weddings. She'd be pleased at Tina's selection of husband. If there'd been any doubts about her love for her husband, they were put to rest by the adoration aimed at the young man, whose own sincere devotion was patently obvious.

Off to the side, swilling a firewhiskey with his friends, stood Julius. Now that he was full grown, it amazed Abraxas how much he resembled his brother without really looking like him. Same black mop of hair, cut short instead of worn long like Severus; same dark eyes and face shape, but the nose and lips had come from Eileen. She'd be so proud to see her children now.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and cranked his head around. "Yes, son?"

Lucius walked round to stand beside them both. "So when are the kids leaving for Wales?" To his ears it sounded funny to call them 'kids' when they were nineteen, but old habits die hard.

"Within a couple of weeks, I imagine," answered Severus. "Julius has no ties here, he's ready, but Miles' family couldn't be told the full truth, so we had to come up with a plausible reason. He finally told them he got a job there, and then he had to actually get a job."

It had been his idea, the whole concept of keeping his siblings safe by shipping them to a location none knew of—most particularly stray Death Eaters with a grudge or…_him_. Severus cringed to think Voldemort might truly make a comeback as Dumbledore predicted, yet signs pointed to just that. There'd been rumors of the dark wizard being sighted in other countries; it was surely only a matter of time before he made it back to England, and if he acquired a new body he'd be capable of untold destruction.

The twins had fought him tooth and nail until there was no choice, not really. Severus had been forced to tell them about his Death Eater days. Over the years they'd heard snippets here and there from news reports and Slytherin sources, so he'd set them straight on the entire story. From there it was only a short step to progress to the topic of keeping the twins out of the way if—when—the dark lord returned. As a publicly proclaimed traitor, Severus would be a prime target, as would his family. When framed in this context, it was hard for Justina or Julius to object. Their lives and Severus' life could depend on it.

"Thank you, Abraxas, for finding a suitable place for them to live. I do appreciate the trouble," Severus murmured.

"It's my pleasure, son," smiled Abraxas. "It was no trouble at all." Not for him, anyway. He'd discreetly paid a trusted real estate agent to come up with two secure, modest homes near each other in a small town in Wales. The agent didn't ask what for, and Abraxas wouldn't have told him if he had. The twins had insisted on paying him back over time, and he'd graciously agreed…after quoting them a price half what it really cost. He could afford it much better than they could.

Now Tina was on her way over to the trio of men, her smile like a permanent fixture on her face. "Severus, won't you dance with me?" She extended her hand to him and he took it. Over her shoulder as they moved off she called out, "I expect a dance from each of you, too."

"I look forward to it, sweet lady," answered Abraxas.

Lucius smiled grimly. "It's a good thing Narcissa is visiting Druella. I'm sorry my mother-in-law is ill, but at least that mudblood groom won't be asking Narcissa to dance."

"Manners, Lucius," his father admonished softly. "Miles may be an inferior, but we will not disrupt this day for Tina or make her feel bad."

"I had no intention of hurting her feelings," protested Lucius honestly. He scanned the room, wrinkling his nose. "Would it be terribly rude to leave soon? If I bump into one more Muggle, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

**July 1990**

"Thanks for comin' over, Malfoy," said Goyle as he walked Lucius to the foyer. "Don't know what ya want with that piece of land, but it's doin' me no good."

Lucius smiled cordially, unwilling to divulge anything. "I'm sure I'll come up with a use for it." He carefully rolled up the contract parchment to stow it in his robes and picked up his traveling cloak from a hook. As he'd learned from his father, he snapped his fingers and his cane sailed into his hand, courtesy of a charm generations earlier that brought the object to the owner when thus summoned. For the past few years he'd carried this serpent-headed stick with him almost everywhere, he felt somehow incomplete without it.

Goyle summoned a house elf and ordered it to go upstairs and fetch Draco. The elf bowed low as it mumbled, "Master Goyle, Masters Gregory and Draco wenting on the back porch."

"Then go get him!"

"Master Draco not being there," the elf shrilled, starting to tremble. "He's goed away."

In a heartbeat both Lucius and Goyle bolted for the designated porch, bursting out into the strong wind, a gust of which blew the door shut behind them with a loud bang. Sheets of rain pouring from the sky made visibility quite poor, and a flash of lightning followed by booming thunder shook the structure.

Ten-year-old Gregory Goyle stood alone on the porch gazing up into the sky. He spun around at the door shutting, a guilty look on his face. When he saw his father and Mr. Malfoy, his eyes grew wide with fright.

"Where's Draco?" demanded Goyle. When the boy didn't answer immediately, the man strode over, snatched his arm, and shook him roughly. "I asked you a question!"

"I didn't do nothin' to 'im," implored the lad. "I just dared 'im is all."

Speaking through clenched teeth Goyle snarled, "Dared him to do what?"

"H-he said he's all great at flyin', s-so I said prove it and dared 'im to fly home and back," responded the boy in a shaky voice.

Mr. Goyle let go of his son so abruptly he fell on his rump. The man's expression was grave as he exchanged looks with Lucius, who'd swung his traveling cloak around himself, his lips pinched tight. Flying in this rain would be dangerous enough…doing so with such high wind and lightning was suicidal. Goyle went back into the house and returned with two brooms, one of which he handed to Lucius.

"Gregory, we're goin' to look for Draco. If he comes back before we do, have your mother send up a red flare." To Lucius he said, "If one of us finds him, we'll bring him back and send up a flare."

Lucius nodded, the fury boiling the blood in his veins. If he weren't so alarmed to the point of panic at Draco's recklessly imbecilic action, he'd be able to give voice to his anger. He set his cane down, propping it against the side of the house, and balanced his wand across his palm. "Point me Draco Malfoy."

The wand spun around to aim to their right. The men mounted the brooms and kicked off, Lucius going up high, Goyle staying lower to the ground. Visibility being what it was, one person alone couldn't see through the heavy precipitation to cover the entire spectrum. Within seconds both wizards were drenched; Lucius' hair hung in heavy clumped strands around his face.

Ten minutes into the flight, Lucius leaned forward on his broom, oblivious to the cold rain pelting him, not aware of how tightly he gripped the handle of the broom—not for fear of falling, but simply from fear for his son. Hard surges of wind slammed against him, causing him to totter. Draco weighed far less, he'd be blown about terribly, maybe even off his broom. Lucius' heart raced as he fought back tears of desperation. There was no sign of the boy. What had prompted Draco to do something so foolhardy? What if he'd crashed and been hurt, would Goyle even see him lying on the ground?

Below him and some distance behind, out of Lucius' sight, Goyle flew along silently, raging inwardly at the stupid brat—rather, _brats_. His own kid was just as bad. His stomach felt like a molten lump of lead. If anything happened to Malfoy's son, there'd be more than hell to pay.

Then, in the distance coming toward him he saw something—a large blond bird being buffeted by the wind? No, it was Draco, with his hair plastered to his skull! Relieved beyond measure, he spurred on and zoomed up to meet the boy, who looked extremely surprised—not in a good way—and he pointed in agitation down at the ground. Taking the hint, Draco angled down to land with Goyle right behind him.

Draco got off his broom. "Yes, Mr. Goyle?"

"Don't you play innocent, Draco Malfoy!" thundered the man, causing the lad to flinch. "This is the dumbest thing you ever did."

Without waiting for a response, he enfolded the boy in his arms, Apparated to his back porch, and took out his wand to light the sky with a red flare. He hoped Lucius would be able to see it. He continued to scold the lad while alternately bellowing at his own son, who cowered in front of him.

A few moments later Lucius Apparated in the yard, and upon seeing his son safe he closed his eyes with a deep exhalation he'd been holding in, tilting his face up to heaven to offer a prayer of gratitude. Then he stormed up the steps, dropped the broom on the floor, and proceeded to shake his son as he'd never done before, causing Draco's head to snap forward and back.

_"What is wrong with you? Why would you do something so dangerous?"_ he roared.

"Goyle dared me," said Draco simply, as if it offered a comprehensive answer.

"You could have been maimed! You could have been killed!"

"But I wasn't," replied Draco with what may have been a touch of insolence. "I'm a good flyer."

Lucius, gritting his teeth, bent down to eye level with the boy. "And what of my standing order that you are not to fly without permission and adult supervision?"

Draco shrugged. "I forgot."

"Then we'll have to remedy that," barked Lucius. He snapped his fingers and his cane flew into his hand as it had for Abraxas all those years that he'd owned it. "I will not have my son disobeying me, nor will I permit him to endanger his life."

"I'm sorry, Father, I won't do it again," Draco gasped, his gray eyes wide as saucers. He'd been spanked on occasion, but never had Father used the cane on him!

Across the porch, Gregory whimpered as Mr. Goyle advanced on him while taking off his belt. Obviously he was very familiar with the object and had no desire to renew the acquaintance. "You're as much at fault as he is," Mr. Goyle said.

Without further ado he whirled his son around and began to thrash him soundly, eliciting piercing yelps between exclamations begging him to stop. Draco's vocal cries joined Gregory's when Lucius' cane met his posterior repeatedly in what would be the first but not the last time the inherited cane dispensed justice on the errant Malfoy lad.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

**August 1990**

Together with Jacinta, Severus found himself swamped by her two brothers and her baby sister, all of whom affectionately referred to him as Uncle Zeb, and none of whom understood why only Jacinta was allowed alone time with him. Jealous of the attention she received, they all vied for him to notice them while Severus rolled his eyes in mock disgust.

Though he'd chew off his right arm before admitting it to a soul, it tickled him to have these children actually _want_ to be near him instead of scooting out of the path of the 'greasy bat of the dungeons'. Not that he'd want those grotesque, ill-mannered brats from Hogwarts hanging after him. The thought was positively nauseating. The only ones he could marginally tolerate were Slytherins, none of whom would refer to him in any way except with respect.

Jacinta, in the superior attitude of a firstborn, shouted for them all to be quiet. "I'm not leaving yet, Uncle Zeb is just taking me to get a few things I'll need for my first year of school. When we get back, if you're good maybe he'll read to you."

"You might want to clear that with me first," drawled Snape. Read to her siblings? The only things he'd ever read to Jacinta had been potion recipes and books on the Dark Arts! However, it had calmed the troupe down.

With minimal fuss they'd permitted him to leave with Jacinta. As soon as they were out the door, he Apparated them to Diagon Alley to procure the supplies.

"Where are we going first, papa?" she asked with a sidelong glance to gauge his reaction.

"To get your wand at—what did you call me?" he exclaimed, his head whipping in her direction. He'd need a chiropractor to fix the crimp put in it.

She pursed her lips defiantly. "I said 'papa'. Why, do you prefer something else?"

"Why did you say that?" he asked guardedly.

Jacinta rolled her eyes in an exact imitation of Severus. "You're my father, aren't you?"

"Who told you that?"

Getting more Snape-ish by the moment, she sighed like a martyr. "Nobody. I'm not dumb, I figured it out like a year ago. I'm the only one you ever take places, except for my hair and eye color I kind of look like you, and I have a grandma and grandpa Prince." She raised her eyebrows, daring him to deny it.

Severus smiled and nodded, feeling an uncommon warm sensation in his chest. "That's my girl."

"You're under disguise, aren't you? A lot of times people don't recognize you, but you always look the same to me."

Still grinning, Severus pulled her along into a more secluded area. He hadn't broken his promise to Glenna not to tell his daughter that he was her father. Jacinta—with her Snape intelligence—had discerned it for herself. He never thought the word 'Papa' could sound so sweet. "Yes, I am. Because of the…special circumstances…I couldn't be seen by your dad's family as I am, but I circumvented the spell so you—and your siblings—always see me as I am."

"Papa, how come I have to go to Beauxbatons? Why can't I go to Hogwarts with you?" She seemed genuinely hurt. Her parents had refused to discuss it with her, and she could only imagine papa didn't want her there.

"The truth?"

"No, I'd rather you lie," she responded sarcastically.

"Smartmouth," he griped, secretly pleased at her snarkiness.

"Is it because you don't want me there, or because daddy's jealous of you and he's afraid if I spend too much time with you I'll love you more than him?" Jacinta queried straightforwardly. "Cuz I love you the same."

Snape shook his head as he pulled her into a hug. "At one time that was true for Jack _and_ me, but not anymore. We both want what's best for you. The truth is, I dearly want you with me, but it can't be. I used to work for a very dangerous wizard. He went away, but there's a good chance that he'll be coming back, and if he does I don't want you anywhere near. Your mum and dad agree with me on this."

"Will…will he try to hurt you?"

"Perhaps. More likely he'll want me to go back to him, and that's all I'm going to say." He could've gone on about his responsibility to watch Potter's wretched progeny the following year, which would be a lot easier to do without Jacinta to worry about. No point in giving the child too much information. As it was, Glenna'd be reading him the riot act for saying as much as he had.

"But you'll be safe, papa?" implored the girl.

"Yes, Jacinta, I'll be fine. Now come along, we need to get you a wand."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

**July 1993**

Abraxas' wand dropped from his numb fingers onto the thick carpet of his room. Trembling, he slid down into a crouch, then onto his knees. It couldn't be right, it _couldn't_ be. Yet Doctor Cullin had performed the test three times, there was no arguing with the results.

When the lesions began appearing on his skin, he'd thought it an allergic reaction; when they refused to heal, he'd become concerned. Over the past weeks he'd noticed a slight encroachment on his face that he'd hid with glamour charms. To deal with the knowledge of what he'd been hiding was too awful to bear.

"Abraxas, I truly am sorry," offered Dr. Cullin softly.

"How could this be? How could I contract _leprosy_?" hissed Abraxas.

The other man shrugged helplessly. "I don't know—we don't know exactly how it is spread. You've been all around the world, you've treated many people for various ailments. For all we know, you may have contracted it from one of them. Since the incubation period can run from a few weeks to thirty years, it's impossible to pin it down."

"Frank, you're my friend, I've known you for forty years. You're the only one I trust to tell me the absolute truth. Is there a cure?" Abraxas' eyes locked on the doctor's, waiting.

Ever so slowly Frank shook his head. "There is no wizard cure. I—I've _heard_ that Muggles have made some advances in treatment if caught early. I can't honestly say what your life would be like, how successful they'd be…I can't offer much encouragement on that front."

Muggles? Abraxas swallowed hard. Only five percent of the entire population was susceptible to leprosy, tending to follow a genetic link, and he had to be one of them. If it weren't so horrific, it might be funny. "Is there a chance?"

Another pause. "You're a strong wizard, Abraxas, and unfortunately that works against you. Leprosy seems to feed on magic, causing it to progress very quickly. I'm fairly certain Muggle medicine couldn't overcome that."

Out of the blue Abraxas began to laugh at the inanity. His only hope were Muggles, yet even if he lowered himself to seek their help, his own magic would end up killing him. There _was_ no hope. "So I'm destined to die from this shameful disease. My family will be reviled—"

He stopped, petrified. God in heaven, what if his family had caught this from him? Lucius, Draco, Narcissa—no, he couldn't harm them!

As if reading his mind, Dr. Cullin said, "I'll test them, too. I've already tested myself, and I'm unaffected. I'm fairly sure they'll be fine, and I'll place blanket spells around them to prevent them from being infected."

"So what do I have to look forward to?" asked Abraxas as he got up off the floor, shuffled to his bed, and collapsed onto it.

"Numbness in limbs and muscle weakness—"

"Already have that."

"Irreversible damage to the peripheral nervous system, lung lesions, eye—"

"Stop, that's enough," murmured Abraxas. "Go test my family, I need to think."

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

"Lucius!" Mateo strode over to greet the unexpected guest, who looked to be quite disturbed. "How are you?"

"Hello, Mateo," said Lucius solemnly. He heaved a fierce glare at two servants eyeing him strangely. "What is their problem?"

"Oh, that," chuckled the _sangrista_. "They all have come to the conclusion that you're a eunuch because you don't like women _or_ men." He tried unsuccessfully to stifle his smile.

"Hilarious," growled Lucius. "Mateo, my father is very ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Lucius went on as if he hadn't been interrupted. "He's dying. His magic is causing the progression of the disease to be very rapid and—" The words stuck in his throat and he had to pry them out by sheer will. "—and I'd like you to save him, with his consent, of course."

Mateo gaped in disbelief. It wasn't every day a request like this came along. "Are you telling me you want me to turn your father into a vampire?"

"Yes," said Lucius, face a stony blank. "If he wishes it."

"And you didn't bother to ask him _before_ coming here?"

Lucius scowled at him. "Will you come or not?"

"Of course."

Lucius Apparated them to Malfoy Manor and the two rushed up to Abraxas' room where the wizard lay propped up with pillows. In only two days since the diagnosis, he'd become too weak to walk. His face was covered in ash-white sores. In the darkened room he didn't immediately recognize them.

"Father, I brought Mateo." Lucius grabbed the vampire's arm and dragged him over to the candlelight beside the bed.

"Hi, Abraxas," smiled Mateo as he reached out to touch the man's head. Though Mateo would never say so, he looked terrible, so awful in fact that if it didn't seem every second might be his last, Mateo would have engaged him in polite conversation. "Lucius has asked me to make you a proposition. There's really no delicate way to say this, so—would you like me to bring you into the fold? Become one of us? You would become healthy and robust, free of all disease."

In a surprisingly strong voice, Abraxas replied, "That's Lucius' idiot idea, huh? No offense, son, I know you meant well. I don't want to die, either. Mateo, I don't wish to insult you, but I really don't care to be a monster. I'd rather go to be with my wife."

"Perfectly understandable," answered Mateo, not at all hurt by the remark. He'd felt the same way even when it happened to him. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

There was a long moment of silence, then Abraxas responded, "Now that you mention it, yes. I'd like to know how it feels to fly without a broom. But first, I need to do something. I want this last bit of my life to have meaning. Lucius, bring the doctor in."

Cullin came in and the two conferred quietly while Lucius and Mateo waited outside. From Abraxas' fireplace Dr. Cullin floo'd away, to return very shortly with a golden haired girl of two years hanging limply in his arms. He lay her on the bed across Abraxas' thighs, handed the wizard his wand, and took out his own.

"This can kill you," warned the doctor. "You were lucky you were so strong last time."

"I think I'm a little past worrying about that," drawled Abraxas, sounding like his old self. "If my life force can give this girl the strength to fight for her life, it's well worth it."

He pointed his wand to the hollow of his throat and said with conviction, "_Conviare_." Then he gently touched the wand tip to the girl's throat and intoned the word again. All at once both wizards began reciting an ancient spell together as their wands bobbed and slashed in unison, and it was done. The little girl moaned and twitched a bit, which excited the doctor immensely.

"She hasn't so much as moved a finger in days," he exclaimed, eyes shining.

"Take her home," said Abraxas, his voice beyond weary now. The wand fell from his hand into the folds of the blanket. "If she lives, one day she'll know she has a Malfoy to thank for it."

When they'd gone he closed his eyes, only to open them again when the duo lurking in the hall walked in from the doorway. They'd been silently observing the ritual, one that Lucius remembered his father performing on Severus all those years ago.

"Father, it was kind of you to give your vitality to that child, but shouldn't you be conserving your strength?"

"It wasn't doing _me_ any good, was it?" shot back the older man, grinning in spite of his exhaustion. "I love you, Lucius. I don't think I'll have another chance to tell you that."

"Father—"

"Son, it's alright. Just don't let anyone know the truth about the leprosy, not even Draco. I love the boy with all my heart, but he does tend to run at the mouth. It would create a sea of doubt and fear around the family."

"Yes, sir. I'll tell them it was something else," Lucius choked out. It was really happening, his father was really dying and all the Malfoy money could do nothing to prevent it.

"Dragon pox," Abraxas murmured. "No shame there, everyone will believe it because it comes on suddenly. Gives you a reason not to show my body, too."

Lucius nodded. He wanted to hug the man, to rage and cry and fight. Instead he said, "Mateo, perhaps you ought to take my father now, before…"

Mateo glided forward, slid his arms under the man's armpits and legs, and lifted him like a baby. He moved over to the open doors of the balcony, paused for only a second, and leaped over to sail across the sky. When he returned an hour later, he laid the lifeless body of the Malfoy patriarch on his bed and gently kissed the cold flesh of his forehead.

From a chair in the corner of the room, Lucius came forward very slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back his tears. "Did he enjoy the ride?"

"Yeah," said Mateo, not trying to hide his own sorrow. "Yeah, he enjoyed it a lot."

THE END


	87. Chapter 87

Hello there! I am sending this notice for those who expressed interest in any original works I may write. Well, I have written a book that is now available through amazon dot com. It is called **We Were Nobles: Dach's Story**, and the author name is _Carol Notwolf._ You can read an excerpt from the e-book at that site, and I'd love it if you purchased it. Also, if you know anyone who may be interested, would you be so kind as to turn them on to the book? Thank you!

Also, I am hoping to begin a new story with Severus and Harry here on this site. If anyone has any ideas they'd like to see incorporated, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Notwolf


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